The Lift Away
by Lindira
Summary: When Dorian returns to Tevinter, he and Lavellan decide to try a long-distance relationship. (Spoilers for DAI. Takes place after "Ma'nehn", but can be read alone.)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The rating reflects explicit language and later sexual content. Content/trigger warning for mentions and descriptions of slavery (not involving main characters). Any Tevene has been mostly fudged from Latin, courtesy of Google Translate. Any Elvhen has been constructed and kind of fudged with much help from katiebour's Elvhen dictionary on AO3: /works/359253/chapters/582281

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><p>"The Lift Away"<p>

ooo

Aeric stood on his balcony, staring out at the snowy mountains that surrounded Skyhold. He filled his lungs with the crisp air, trying to ease the coiling tension in his stomach. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath.

Dorian was going to leave him.

It wasn't going to happen right away, Aeric knew. At least not until Corypheus had been defeated. And Dorian would likely linger a while before going home to Tevinter. At least, that was Aeric's hope. The mage was not forthcoming with his feelings most of the time, but Aeric could tell that Dorian at least cared a great deal about him.

All this, after giving up the Well of Sorrows because Dorian asked him not to drink. After giving the honor to a _shemlen_ who thought herself more worthy to gain a wealth of elven history and culture than two elves. Who _preached_ to both Aeric and Solas about what "correct" elven history entailed. The thought of Morrigan gaining the knowledge of the Well infuriated him.

But Dorian asked. And Aeric thought about the servants of Mythal in the temple, the ageless elves who had also pledged their eternal lives to the elven goddess. Would he be called to serve eternally as well? Aeric did not want an immortal life if it meant that Dorian would not be part of it.

"Aren't you freezing?"

Aeric opened his eyes, but he didn't have to turn around to know who was there. "It's not so cold when you wear clothes with two sleeves."

Dorian came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Aeric's waist. "It's called being fashionable. You might try it sometime." His fingers plucked at Aeric's shirt. "Instead of wearing these hideous beige pajamas."

"It's what they gave me to wear when I got here," Aeric said with a shrug. He drew Dorian's arms tighter around him.

Aeric couldn't see it, but he could hear the smile in Dorian's voice. "You can buy your own clothing, you know."

"If being fashionable means being cold, I'll keep the pajamas, thank you." Aeric looked over his shoulder at Dorian. "Did you finish your research, or did you take a break just to tease me?"

Dorian had been reading at Aeric's desk, poring over a few books on the Blight and the first darkspawn. He hesitated before answering. "I noticed you had been out here for a long time. Are you all right?"

Aeric looked back out at the mountains. "I just needed to think."

"About my leaving for Tevinter, I take it?"

"Yes."

Dorian sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. But I thought… You said you understood."

"I do understand," Aeric said. "And I want you to go, if that is what will make you happiest."

Dorian's arms tightened even further, pressing their bodies close together. "But you won't be happy," he said in a small voice.

"Not without you, _ma'nehn_."

Aeric found himself suddenly turned around, Dorian's lips crashing into his. After a few moments, they parted ever so slightly. Aeric could feel his lover's warm breath tickle his cheek. "I'm here now," Dorian murmured. "Come inside. We should make the most of the time we have."

Giving a nod of agreement, Aeric followed Dorian through the doors, shutting the cold out behind him.

ooo

The longer Dorian put off leaving, the harder it became.

Corypheus was dead, and Aeric miraculously came out of it alive. Honestly, if Dorian had not been there alongside the elf almost every step of the way, he would never have believed a quarter of the things Aeric had faced and survived. The pride Dorian felt for him was limitless.

In the months since then, he and Aeric had fallen into an almost easy routine, closing the remaining rifts across the countryside and assisting with the rebuilding efforts after the respective wars in Ferelden and Orlais. When at Skyhold, they spent their days reading together in the library, people-watching in the courtyard, playing Wicked Grace with those of their companions who stayed with the Inquisition: Cullen, Iron Bull, and Josephine. Blackwall, Cassandra, Sera, and Cole. Varric, before he returned to Kirkwall.

Yet as the months wore on, Dorian began to realize that there was no longer any need for him there. Not with the Inquisition, at any rate. Their fledgling organization was a major world power now, and all that remained was the maintenance of order.

All that remained for him now was Aeric.

Dorian sat up in bed one night, some six months after the defeat of Corypheus. He tried to read, but the thought of returning to Tevinter weighed heavily on his mind. His homeland needed him now. He needed to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak, while the treachery of Corypheus and the Venatori were still fresh in every Tevinter's mind. They would be much more open to change when the evidence of corruption within their society was plain to see. A thrill went through Dorian's spine as he imagined what might be possible for his country, given time. It would be slow-going at first, especially without the Inquisition's resources, but the potential for change was limitless.

Yet as he watched Aeric sleep peacefully beside him, his face somehow managing to look sour even in slumber, Dorian's resolve wavered. What would become of them if he left? A small knot of panic formed in Dorian's chest at the thought. Overcome, he bent to kiss Aeric, on the scar a Tevinter slaver had left him as a child.

Dorian had to go. To fix Tevinter, so that what happened to Aeric would not happen to anyone else.

Aeric stirred. "Dorian?" he said, his speech slurred with sleep.

Dorian took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry, _amatus_. I did not mean to wake you."

The elf turned over in the bed to look at him. "Still reading?" He glanced over to the burnt out candle and frowned. "Not reading. Is something the matter?"

"I don't know," Dorian replied honestly. "Thinking. You know how dangerous that is."

Aeric rubbed at his eyes and sat up. "Thinking about what?"

There was a moment's hesitation before Dorian answered. "I… I've decided to go back to Tevinter. Soon."

"Oh."

"I fear that if I don't go soon, I never will," Dorian went on with a sigh. "As much as I want to remain at your side, the Inquisition doesn't need me anymore. Tevinter does."

He expected Aeric to say something, to tell Dorian that of course the Inquisition needed him. Or that even if the Inquisition didn't, Aeric needed him. Instead, the elf was silent, staring down at his hands clenching the blankets.

Part of Dorian wanted Aeric to plead for him to stay.

"Two weeks, I think," Dorian continued after a time. "That should be long enough to get my affairs in order, and arrange passage to Minrathous."

"Will you need anything?" Aeric's voice was flat, emotionless.

"Provisions and some coin, if you can spare it," Dorian replied.

Aeric nodded, but said nothing.

It was unnerving, this lack of anything. "I'm sorry." Dorian did not know what else to say. He watched Aeric for a few moments, but the elf barely moved. "You're not going to say anything?"

"I often don't say much," Aeric said in the same toneless voice. "Taciturn, you called me."

"Yes, but at least you grunt at me from time to time," Dorian replied, trying to get him to smile. It didn't work. Dorian reached a hand out and touched one of Aeric's. "_Amatus_…"

Aeric looked up at Dorian, but his expression was empty. "I knew this was coming, Dorian. I wanted you to go."

"And now?"

Aeric closed his eyes, the stillness in his face breaking, falling into sadness. It was so much worse than the nothingness from a moment ago. Dorian tightened his grip on Aeric's hand. "It's something you need to do," the elf said. "I haven't forgotten that. If it's important to you, it's important to me." He opened his eyes again. "I could beg you to stay. But if I keep you from doing what you need to do, you would resent me. Perhaps not right away, but someday. I don't want that. I could never do that to you, _ma'nehn_." He sighed. "Are you sure I can't go with you?"

Dorian shook his head. "The Inquisition still needs you. You're the only one who can close the rifts. There are fewer of them now, it's true. But there are still many to which you need to attend."

Aeric nodded, not saying anything.

They sat in heavy silence for a while. Dorian usually didn't mind silences between them, but this one was uncomfortable, almost to the point of being painful. "Please say something, Aeric," he said when he could stand it no longer.

Aeric looked up at him, his lapis-colored eyes faintly glowing in the dark in the way elven eyes did. "So what happens to us?"

Though Dorian knew that they would have to talk about what his leaving meant for the relationship, this was the conversation he had been dreading the most. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I can't ask you to-"

"I will wait for you," Aeric interrupted, his face suddenly fierce in the moonlight.

"_Amatus_, no." Dorian's voice shook from the wrenching in his chest. "Who knows how long I'll be gone. I cannot ask that of you."

The gaze Aeric directed at him was hard, like blue-tempered steel. "Do you want to end it between us?"

"Wait, what?" _No, no, that is the last thing that I want._ "Of course not. You're important to me, Aeric. But if you should find someone…" The words were painful to get out.

Aeric shook his head. "There is no one for me but you. I will wait. However long it takes." His face softened, but was still full of determination. Stubbornness, more like.

Unable to speak, Dorian closed the space between them, kissing him with as much emotion as he could muster. That emotion he could not name. "You damned idiot," he whispered hoarsely when they parted. "I just want you to be happy."

"I already have my happiness, _ma'nehn_," Aeric replied softly. "I'll not have any other, even if it feels like sadness for a time."

Dorian gave a small smile. "You say such marvelous things for someone who speaks so little."

Aeric replied only with a small smile of his own. Instead, he shifted closer, and Dorian wrapped his arms around him. They sat together like this, Dorian holding him, memorizing his scent, like evergreen trees in winter.

"What about you?" the elf asked in a quiet voice after a few moments.

Dorian kissed his hair, unable to imagine wanting anything else but this, anyone else but him. "I think we both know that you've ruined me for other men, _amatus_. No one could possibly compare to you."

Aeric looked up at him. "No other archdemon killers in Tevinter?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Not a one," Dorian answered with a chuckle. "And the only other archdemon killer in the world is a woman, so no need to worry there."

"I'm relieved."

"I thought you might be."

Dorian pressed another kiss to the top of Aeric's head and held him tight against him. A comfortable silence fell over them until they both began slumping where they sat. Without a word, the two of them slid down the bed until they found themselves in each other's arms again and fell asleep.

ooo

Aeric woke one morning, a week before Dorian was set to leave, to find that he was alone in bed. It wasn't unusual for Dorian to wake first; he liked to take his time in the bath and care for his hair and mustache. Yet instead of being greeted with the sound of gentle splashes of water, Aeric could hear the scrape of something across paper. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and glanced toward his desk.

Sitting in Aeric's desk chair, Dorian was watching him with an appraising eye. "Hold still. I've almost got it."

"Almost got what?" Aeric asked with a yawn, though he didn't move otherwise.

Dorian held a stick of graphite in his hand and ran it over the paper in considered strokes. "The exquisite line of your inner thigh, as it turns out."

"You're… drawing me?" The elf looked around. There were crumpled pieces of paper strewn all over the floor, with what looked to be half-drawn figures sketched on each of them. A long mirror lay on its side on the floor, propped up against the side of the couch.

"Any mage worth his salt in Tevinter is at least a decent artist," Dorian said, glancing up at him every so often before making a few more lines. "Usually meant for drawing runes and instructional diagrams, but it has its other uses. The arts are ever so impressive when trying to outmatch your competitors amongst the nobility." His voice took on a mocking tone. "'My son is a painter and is a virtuoso with three different instruments, all while excelling at his magical studies. And what has your little Magnus done lately?' That sort of thing. Father made certain my education wanted for nothing."

"Fine, but what I meant was why?" Aeric picked up a balled up paper that had fallen close to the bed. There had to have been over a dozen of them on the floor. "And how long have you been awake?"

"A few hours. I… I couldn't sleep." Dorian bent over his drawing again. "Almost done."

Aeric frowned, but continued to stay still. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Thinking again," he said evasively. "An active mind is such a burden."

Dorian continued drawing for a few minutes as Aeric waited patiently on the bed. "And… finished!" Dorian announced at last. "Care to take a look?"

Curious, Aeric got up from the bed and crossed the room to the desk. He looked over Dorian's shoulder at the drawing. And burst out laughing.

The Aeric in the drawing lay on his side on the bed with a seductive look in his eyes, his lips in a crooked smile. He was also completely naked.

"I wasn't sleeping naked, _ma'nehn_," Aeric pointed out, still chuckling. "What did you use for reference?"

"Please," Dorian said with a withering glance. "You don't think I know what you look like without your smallclothes by now? I am nothing if not an excellent observer."

Aeric cocked his head to one side, looking at the picture. "It _is_ rather accurate."

Dorian grinned. "I certainly thought so."

"So, why are you drawing me naked?"

"It's for me, naturally," Dorian replied, still smiling, mischief in his eyes. "Inspiration for all those lonely nights ahead." He opened a drawer and pulled out another sheet of paper. "Here, I made one for you as well."

Aeric took the paper and flipped it over. Warmth rushed to his cheeks and ears. And lower. Dorian's picture was accurate as well. "Is that what the sideways mirror was for?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, that's right." Dorian laughed. "Apparently I know yours better than I know my own."

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Aeric bent and kissed him on the cheek. "It was very considerate of you. Thank you."

"Of course."

As Aeric set the drawing down on the desk, he noticed that there were others that the mage had set aside. He picked them up. "May I?"

Dorian nodded, the smile falling from his face.

Aeric flipped through the sketches. Each depicted his face in various states: sleeping, smiling, glaring. Each drawn in careful detail. "They're wonderful," he said in a soft voice.

"I don't think I have your smile quite right," Dorian said, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Figures. It's the most important one."

"_Ma'nehn_." Aeric set the drawings down on the desk and knelt beside the chair. "What are they for? Why couldn't you sleep?"

Dorian sighed. "I don't know, really. Paranoia, maybe?" He reached out and touched Aeric's face, his thumb tracing the _vallaslin_. "While I was lying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking that you'd get yourself caught up in something dangerous again while I'm gone. Demons or dragons or what have you. You face that kind of thing every day, even without the terrible luck you seem to have. You so much as sneeze, and you somehow manage to draw an archdemon and an army of darkspawn upon you."

Aeric would have laughed had it not been so true.

"And as the Inquisitor, you're one of the most powerful people in Thedas," Dorian continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if someone sent an assassin after you. I'm a little shocked no one's sent one already."

"You're afraid I'll die while you're away," Aeric said, placing a hand on the mage's arm to reassure him.

"You can't deny that it's a possibility." Dorian's eyes found his, gazing at him as if searching for something. "You're very good at what you do, _amatus_. But even you make mistakes sometimes. When I leave, it may be the last time I will ever…" He stopped himself, swallowing. He turned his head to look at the pictures. "If that happens… I didn't want to forget."

Aeric pulled Dorian into a tight embrace, wanting to tell him that it would be all right, that his fears were unfounded, but he wasn't sure that it was the truth.

As if reading his mind, Dorian murmured into his ear. "Promise me you won't die."

Aeric gave a little shake of his head. "I can't. I won't lie to you, _ma'nehn_."

Dorian buried his face in the hollow of Aeric's neck. "You can lie to me this once. Please."

_It won't be a lie,_ Aeric swore to himself_. I cannot break this vow. _

"I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Apologies for the inconsistent chapter lengths...

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><p>Neither of them slept the night before Dorian's departure. Instead, they made love with desperate passion in the moonlight, as often as their bodies would allow. In between, as they rested, they ate together and held each other, telling each other stories in hushed voices. They drank in the dulled smiles and dampened laughter the other gave, until the sun broke over the horizon, and it was time to go.<p>

Dorian yawned loudly as he and Aeric crossed the courtyard in the early morning hours, the lack of sleep finally catching up with him. It was his own decision to leave so early; the courtyard would be empty of onlookers, so he could say his goodbyes to Aeric in relative privacy. It did, however, mean that he had to leave just as fatigue was setting in. It would be a very long journey to Val Royeaux.

Josephine and Aeric had helped him hire an assistant of sorts, meant to act as his steward and bodyguard. Relyne was a former Orlesian bard and an old acquaintance of both Josephine and Leliana. She seemed quite capable. Dorian was just glad that she had only a slight accent and didn't grate on his nerves. It was a long voyage to Minrathous, and the woman was to be his only companion.

Guiding two mounts and a packhorse, she met them in the middle of the courtyard and bowed, her dark curls falling over her face before bouncing back as she righted herself. "My Lords," she greeted. "All the provisions for the journey have been packed. I have sent word ahead to the ship's captain in Val Royeaux to confirm our arrival by midafternoon tomorrow. If I may take your personal belongings, I will await you on the bridge."

Dorian handed Relyne his two satchels, which she tied securely to the packhorse. With another bow, she led the horses through the archway.

"I'm surprised you didn't need more bags," Aeric said, watching her go. They, too, strolled into the archway together, the stone walls shielding them from prying eyes. Skyhold was awakening.

"I didn't exactly have time to take more than a few essentials when I left Tevinter," Dorian replied. "And I acquired surprisingly little during my stay here. No time for shopping when killing darkspawn magisters, I suppose." He shrugged. "I only regret that I can't take more books. More than three or four, and they begin to get cumbersome. I'll be terribly bored on the ship."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something to pass the time," Aeric said, then blinked, remembering something. "And speaking of the ship, here." He untied a pouch from his belt loop and pressed it into Dorian's hands.

Dorian opened the pouch and peeked inside. It contained two large brownish-grey roots. "Er, thank you? Are bagged roots a customary going-away present amongst the Dalish?"

Aeric chuckled. "It's ginger, for your seasickness. Cut off a slice, let it steep in hot water, and drink it like tea. It should help."

Smiling, Dorian tied the pouch to his belt. "That was very thoughtful of you, _amatus_. Hopefully it will keep me from vomiting the entire two weeks to Minrathous." He groaned inwardly. "The mere thought of it is making me nauseous."

"Then don't think about it," Aeric said with a smirk.

"Have you ever tried not to think about something?" Dorian said, shaking his head. "Utterly impossible. The more you try, the more you can't get it out of your head."

Silence fell over them, awkward in anticipation. They both knew it was time for Dorian to leave, but it was clear that neither of them wanted to acknowledge it. Dorian's hand found Aeric's again and squeezed hard. It didn't feel like he was leaving. It didn't feel real, as if he would be coming back tomorrow, or in a week, and see Aeric again.

Dorian cleared his throat. The moment had gone on too long. "I… suppose I should not keep Relyne waiting."

Aeric took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm coming back to visit in a year, agreed?" Dorian said, forcing a smile. "Unless it all goes pear-shaped and they oust me out of the country for even suggesting they give up their blood magic and sport killing. Which is a possibility, I suppose. But if all goes as planned, one year, yes?"

"One year. Agreed." Aeric gave a small smile, one Dorian was sure he was also forcing, and put his hands on the mage's shoulders. "You are going to do great things there, _ma'nehn_. I believe in you."

Dorian embraced him, breathing in his scent one more time. "I know. I have hope for Tevinter. Small changes lead to greater ones, lasting ones. You taught me that."

The elf pulled back from their embrace, just enough so they could face each other. "I had a little help." His smile turned more genuine, touching his eyes. "If you ever need anything at all, you will have it. From the Inquisition, from me, anything."

Dorian nodded. "And you stay safe. If you get yourself killed, I'm going to be very angry. You have a promise to keep, remember?" _I know I said to lie, but please don't let it be one…_

"I remember. And you don't get yourself killed either." Aeric reached up and touched Dorian's face fondly. "And please write often."

"Just try and stop me. I'll send the first letter when I arrive." Dorian grinned then. "And I expect to receive some naughty ones from you from time to time."

Aeric gave a little smirk. "We'll see."

"Oh, playing coy now, are you?" Dorian said, chuckling.

"You know me."

"I do." Dorian's smile faded. He kissed him then, fiercely, hands trembling. "Maker, I think this may be the hardest thing I've ever done," he whispered when their lips parted. "Stupid ideals. Stupid aspirations. Stupid countrymen ruining my stupidly marvelous homeland."

There was a pause. "It will get better."

"You think so?"

"It has to." Aeric took another deep breath, letting it out with a huff. "You need to go. We could spend all day saying goodbye." He paused, his eyes running over Dorian's face as if studying it. "_Na viras'an, emma sulahn'nehn vir'an. Ma'arlath_, Dorian. _Dareth shiral._"

Dorian's cheeks warmed. "That's… terribly alluring and completely unfair." He knew some elvish from his prolonged effort to translate his petname, but he only understood the last part. _I love you, Dorian. Safe journeys._ "What does the first half mean? And don't ask me to translate it myself, because it took me months to figure out that one little word."

"I'll tell you in a letter," Aeric offered. "Then you'll have something to look forward to in Minrathous. To keep your mind off the seasickness."

"Oh, that might help, actually." Dorian paused for a moment, and then, not to be outdone, thought of something to say in Tevene. "Then I have one for you as well: _Iam ego te requiro, amatus_."

Aeric raised an eyebrow. "I gather you won't tell me what that means."

"I'll tell you in a letter," Dorian said with a wink. "Along with a few other things in Tevene I'd like to tell you."

Running his fingers along the fringe of Dorian's hair, Aeric gave him a sad smile. "You're stalling, _ma'nehn_."

"Am I?" Dorian sighed, giving a glance at Relyne, who was still waiting patiently with the horses past the gate. "I suppose this _will_ be the third time we'll be saying goodbye."

Aeric squared his shoulders and looked Dorian in the eyes, his blue gaze piercing. "Then let it be the last. When I see you next, I want nothing but hellos."

"Listen to you, and the marvelous things you say." Dorian kissed him again, to chase away the knot tying itself in his stomach, starting with the tattooed line on Aeric's lip that he adored so much. He lingered there, tasting, memorizing. Praying that the kiss might convey all the words that stuck in his throat unsaid. When they finally, reluctantly parted, Aeric pulled Dorian into his arms, squeezing hard enough to leave him a little breathless.

"One year," Aeric whispered, as if to himself. "We can do one year." He paused, sighing. "I love you."

"I… I know," Dorian replied. He swallowed, inwardly cursing his cowardice even as the words left his mouth. "I will be thinking of you always."

Aeric nodded and released him from the embrace, stepping backward. "Go on, then. Before either of us changes our minds."

Dorian forced a shaky smile. "Be safe, _amatus_."

"You too." He let go of Dorian's hands, their fingers slipping from each other.

It was difficult to turn away, in the way breaking one's own finger on purpose is difficult. Still, Dorian made himself walk to Relyne, where she nodded, handing him the reins to one of the horses. He mounted and glanced back at Aeric, memorizing the brown of his hair, the solemn expression on his face, the way his hand raised to wave goodbye. His heart hammering in his throat, Dorian waved back.

As he turned his horse and rode across the bridge out of Skyhold, for a moment, Dorian could not remember why he was leaving at all.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ma'nehn,_

_You have barely been gone a week, and I am already writing to you. I know we have been separated this long before, but knowing that you won't be coming back soon makes the days seem longer. Pathetic, I suppose. I can already hear you teasing me._

_I hope your voyage is going well and that you are not getting too sick. By the time you receive this, it will already be over. Did you see anything interesting? Was Relyne good company? I have only been on a ship once - the short trip crossing the Waking Sea on my way to the Conclave with my sister, what seems like ages ago. I, too, got sick then, but Pai loved every second of it. If you and I ever sail together, we will be quite the pair. The leader of the Inquisition and the Scion of House Pavus, throwing up over the side of a ship together. It's an amusing mental image._

_I will be heading out to the Hissing Wastes in a day or two. Scouts have found a few rifts in the area, and there is a dragon causing some trouble as well. Don't worry, I'm taking both Cassandra and Bull with me, so I should be well-protected. Cole is coming too, and he wanted me to tell you that he says "hello" and that "the words will loosen", whatever that means. I suppose it might mean something to you? At any rate, I'll be gone for about two weeks. I will write again when I return._

_I know there is much to be done when you arrive in Minrathous, but do try to enjoy yourself a little too. The warmth will be a welcome change for you, I'm sure. What is the city like? I would like to see it someday._

_Take care and be well. I look forward to hearing from you._

_Love,_

_Aeric_

_P.S. Na viras'an, emma sulahn'nehn vir'an. It means, roughly, "Where you go, my happiness goes."_

ooo

"Inquisitor? Hey, Viney-face, I'm talking to you!"

Aeric blinked, coming out of his reverie. He had been staring at the tavern's fire for a while now, wondering about Dorian and whether his journey had been going smoothly. Looking up, he saw Sera standing next to him, her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised. "What?" Aeric said with a touch of irritation.

"Look at you," she said, sitting down in the stool beside him. She helped herself to his untouched ale. "All down in the dumps because Mister Tevinter loves his country more than he loves you."

Aeric rolled his eyes, though her words stung more than he let on. "That's not how it is."

"That right?" Sera took another swig and leaned back against the bar behind them. The ale was apparently hers now. "You're in here, in a tavern, not drinking. You're never in here unless you're talking to one of us. And you haven't been talking. Dorian's out there somewhere, on his way to the land of magical little shits. Where am I wrong?"

"It's complicated, and I don't have to explain it to you." Aeric got to his feet.

"You're not leaving already, are you?" Sera said, sitting up. "I'm trying to cheer you up!"

Aeric almost laughed. He couldn't wrap his mind around how her brain worked sometimes. "How is this cheering me up?"

"Oh, didn't I mention? I came down here to invite you to play some pranks on Miss Prissy Pants again." She paused thoughtfully. "And maybe Leliana too. She could stand to be kicked down a peg before she sits her ass down on that shiny Orlesian throne they're giving her in a few weeks. Oh, and why leave General Uptight out?" she said with a grin.

Aeric shook his head. "I said no last time, Sera. What makes you think I'd agree to it this time?"

"Well, it wasn't a complete no last time, was it," she said, waving the tankard around as she spoke. A bit of ale sloshed onto the front of her shirt, but she paid it no mind. "I mean, you gave permission."

"And Josephine nearly flayed you alive, if I remember correctly," he replied, with some amusement.

Sera laughed. "Yeah… that was good." She took a long swig of the ale and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Well, if not pranks, what?"

Aeric folded his arms in imitation of her earlier stance. "Why does it matter to you?"

She shrugged and cast her eyes into her tankard. "'Cause I can't stand your moping. You and him and his stupid mustache should've been happy. All stayed put and stupid happy. You saved the frigging world, didn't you? You'd think you'd get some happily ever after out of the deal, right?"

He smiled sadly. "You'd think."

As if to hide her face, Sera took another long drink from the tankard. When she looked up at him, she narrowed her eyes and smiled crookedly. "Hey, you like cooking, right?"

"Yes…" Aeric said slowly, frowning with suspicion.

"I have this thing with cookies," she said. "Don't wanna talk about it. But I go into the kitchens and make them sometimes. If you want, you can join me."

"I don't like cookies."

"Me neither!" Sera laughed. "But I'm thinking, between the two of us, we might find something we like about making them. And maybe get you to forget about Dorian and his stupid mustache. Then we'll try eating the cookies and hate them, and give them to Miss Priss and Fancy-hat Divine and Uptight and anybody else who wants them. And probably make them fat, but that's their problem. You in?"

"All right," Aeric conceded, chuckling. For once, what Sera was saying made perfect sense to him. "I'll meet you in the kitchens after dinner, then."

Sera brightened, a wide smile spreading across her face. "What, seriously?"

Aeric nodded, still smiling.

"Ha!" She downed the last of the ale, carelessly spilling some on the floor in the process. "This might be the best batch yet!" Without another word, she ran upstairs. To make plans for cookies, Aeric assumed.

Shaking his head, Aeric left the tavern and headed back to his quarters. It was strange to think of them as solely his again, a thought that always made him want to sigh all too dramatically. But he wasn't going to do that, he had sworn to himself. Perhaps some of Dorian's pride had rubbed off on him, but he refused to act like a lovesick puppy for an entire year.

Still, something that Sera had said bothered him. Usually, he knew better than to let anything she said get to him; she was often insensitive, tactless, or willfully ignorant. Sometimes all three. But she also had a knack of striking a nerve with her quick, thoughtless words.

_Mister Tevinter loves his country more than he loves you._

As Aeric entered his quarters, he let himself sigh despite himself. He didn't doubt Dorian's affections. Though the mage had blatantly avoided using the word, Aeric was almost certain Dorian loved him. He saw it in the way Dorian's eyes would turn gentle when Dorian looked at him. He heard it in the irony of Dorian's exasperating "I hate you" after Corypheus' defeat. He felt it in the goodbye kisses - not chaste, but not driven by lust either - filled with such emotion that Aeric's heart broke again just thinking of it.

But those were things all done in private. And for the first time, Aeric found himself caring what people thought about his relationship with Dorian. For the so long, Dorian was the only one who cared. _What will people think? What will the nobles say? How will your reputation suffer, Aeric?_ All along, Dorian had been afraid, not of how others saw him, but of what his proximity to Aeric would do to his status as Inquisitor.

Now, Aeric worried for Dorian's reputation. If Sera thought that he left because he didn't love Aeric, others would too. He wasn't sure there was anything he could do about it; anything he said in protest would likely be dismissed as him being heartbroken and in denial. Still, he didn't want anyone to think that Dorian had just used him and left. Aeric sat down heavily in their bed - no, _his_ bed, for now - his head buzzing with frustration.

He bent to open a drawer from the nightstand. Inside was the picture Dorian drew for him - used twice already, Creators help him - and, below that, a Tevene dictionary. He had been learning a few words here and there before Dorian had left, but never had the time to study the language in earnest. Perhaps now he would give it another try.

It might have been nice to be chosen over Tevinter, Aeric thought. But he also knew that, even if Dorian had tried to stay, he would have encouraged him to go anyway. Dorian had been right. The Inquisition didn't need him anymore. Aeric did, but not his cause. Tevinter needed to be reformed, and Dorian wanted to be the one to do it. And Aeric knew that everyone needs a purpose outside of their lover's whims.

Aeric flipped to the beginning of the dictionary, to a page marked with a small bit of string. He let his fingertips fall on two words, and he smiled fondly.

Dorian had chosen Tevinter. But Aeric didn't question Dorian's feelings.

He knew what _amatus_ meant.

_Amatus: beloved._

ooo

_Dearest Amatus,_

_The heat! I almost forgot what it felt like to be warm! Don't get me wrong, I did grow to like Skyhold very much. But it's a wonderful thing to be able to feel one's toes again. I like my toes. They're lovely._

_The journey to Minrathous was far more pleasant than the trip south so long ago. The ginger did wonders. Thank you. I still felt nauseous, but there were whole days that went by without me hanging off of the railing, losing my breakfast. Sea travel might actually become somewhat enjoyable now. But not with Relyne. I am convinced she speaks even less than you do, and when I asked her to tell me stories, she said she did not know any. A bard! Who doesn't know stories! I feel you should get your money back for her, because she is not as advertised. She listens well enough, though, so I suppose I'll keep her around for a while longer. Also, she kept some of the ship's crew from pummeling me for a few… choice comments I made at their expense. I could have zapped them all with lightning, of course, but better to avoid violence when one is still stuck on a boat with them for another week. So never mind about the whole getting-your-money-back part. She's very good at her job. Just… no stories? Such a pity._

_The inn that Josephine set up for me and Relyne is quite comfortable, and the innkeeper, Clio, is a kindly older woman who, unfortunately, seems to want to set me up with her daughter. Relyne has been glaring at her on my behalf whenever the subject comes up, so I think the matter has been dropped for now. The quarters themselves could use some updating, but they have everything we need - shelves for books, a parlor for greeting potential allies and/or people we're secretly plotting to kill, and tables for the actual plotting part. Perfect. Clio provides the meals, and I have to say that I truly missed Tevinter cuisine. I may be a bit rounder when you see me next._

_There are many here in Minrathous who are curious about the Inquisition and the work you have done, so I have scheduled some speaking engagements. The masses are ever so curious about what really happened, beyond the propaganda the Magisterium has fed them. I am also working on gaining allies amongst key members of the Senate, and amongst fellow alti such as myself. Many meetings and appointments and parties. I am hopeful that we will garner some support, so that when I have my hearing at the Magisterium in three months' time, I won't be thrown out for heresy or treason or both. I had hoped to get a hearing date sooner, but it appears to be assassination season again in Tevinter, so they're a little backed up. At any rate, it gives me time to prepare. Wish me luck._

_I've been thinking of you often. All the time, in fact. It was such a pleasant surprise to find your letter already waiting for me at the inn when we arrived. When I read it, I could almost hear your voice in my head. Which made me miss you all the more, but there you have it. There has been so much that I've seen during my voyage north that I've wanted to share with you. Little things, like sunsets over Rivain or the first sight of Minrathous on the horizon. So, if you are pathetic, then I am pathetic with you, because I longed for you even before I left. Iam ego te requiro - I miss you already._

_Please write back as soon as you are able. I would like to know that you are not, in fact, a dragon's supper. And I don't know what Cole is talking about. Perhaps in time. He works that way sometimes, yes?_

_Yours,_

_Dorian_

_P.S. Still alluring and unfair. Stop it this instant. (No, never stop.)_


	4. Chapter 4

Dorian strolled through the Minrathous marketplace with Relyne in tow, gazing idly at the wares at each stall. Usually, the stalls sold items that only appealed to tourists and pretenders: knock-offs of magical relics, sub-standard silk blends, spices that were more sawdust than cinnamon. But it was where Relyne could talk to her contacts without suspicion, and Dorian had grown to like the cheap spiced wine sold there. It reminded him of Skyhold.

While waiting for Relyne to talk with a steward of Magister Passer, under pretense of swapping laundry techniques or some such thing, Dorian wandered away from the stalls, reacquainting himself with the beauty of the city. Not for the first time, he wished Aeric were there with him to see it. Buildings older than imagining stood tall in every direction, surrounding the large open square, made of marble and granite. The higher end shops were on the north side, inlaid in gold, such that guards were posted nearby at all times to ensure they weren't ripped from the very walls. The south side of the square held shops for the middle classes, the buildings less tall and with fewer glittering spires. Even further south was what was called the Lower District, filled with ruffians who would steal the teeth from your mouth, if his father was to be believed. Dorian had never been allowed to venture that way. It was beneath his attention, his father had said.

Feeling curious and somewhat rebellious, he signaled to Relyne. "I'm headed that way," he told her, pointing south. "Come find me when you are finished."

She nodded and turned back to Passer's steward.

As Dorian walked down toward the Lower District, he noticed that a few other members of the upper class were headed in the same direction as well. If not magisters and alti, then their stewards or heads of staff, recognizable from the livery they wore, each colored to represent the family they served. Some stopped at the Middle District stores, but a fair number of them walked ever southward. Some of them jingled, leaden with coin.

Dorian frowned. Why would they need that much coin in the poor districts?

It wasn't long, however, before Dorian understood why. The Lower District was not poor. In fact, it was one of the richest, though it didn't look or smell like it.

It was the slave trade district.

Dorian had rarely thought about where slaves came from, before going south. They were merely everywhere, doing everything. Many times, the new slaves would just appear at his father's estate, doing work as if they had been there forever.

Whatever Dorian had thought of where they came from, it wasn't this. Dorian's stomach churned at the sight before him. Cages, some stacked two or three high, lined the cul de sac that contained the slave market. Each cage was filled with four or five people - almost all elves - trembling in rags and chains. Solid metal collars surrounded each of their necks, bolted on one side, with loops that the slavers could grab onto with hooked poles. On one end of the trading area, there was a raised dais, like a stage, where magisters, alti, and heads of staff had gathered. They all watched as a slaver presented elves stripped to the waist, pulled across the platform with the poles.

Dorian was almost certain he would vomit.

A man with a hooked nose and shaved head approached him. Dorian thought that he looked… normal, unlike what he had imagined a slaver might appear. The man didn't wring his hands or shuffle his feet. His eyes were not surrounded by dark circles, or bloodshot. He appeared like a businessman, and when he stepped forward, he sounded like one as well. "Hello, hello!" he greeted. "I am Decipio, one of the attendants here. I don't believe we've seen you here before."

"No, you haven't," Dorian grunted.

"But I do think I know who you are," Decipio said smoothly, gesturing for Dorian to follow him further into the trading area. "Altus Pavus, is that correct?"

Dorian raised a suspicious eyebrow. "How would you know that?" He wasn't wearing his amulet that day.

The man gave a small bow. "Apologies, I did not mean to alarm you. You resemble your father, that's all."

The hairs on the back of Dorian's neck stood on end. "You… know my father?"

"Mostly by reputation," the slaver said, "but I have seen him here once or twice when the Magisterium was convening. He cares for his purchases well, so they rarely need replacing. And your family is from Qarinus, isn't that right? I'm sure there must be a provider there as well for any immediate needs." He smiled broadly. "But I assure you, you will find far better stock here than anywhere else within the Imperium."

He spoke of them as if they were cattle.

Decipio held his hands behind his back leisurely. "Are you looking for something in particular, Altus? A chambermaid or a stable boy, perhaps?" He lowered his voice. "Or, if you're looking for something of a more… personal nature, we can provide that as well. We pride ourselves on our discretion."

Dorian whipped around to glare at him. "_What?_" he almost shouted between clenched teeth. Surely people didn't… wouldn't…

Of course they did. What a fool he was.

The slaver took a step backward, his mouth falling open in surprise at Dorian's reaction. "I… I meant no offense, my Lord. It only expedites matters if I know what you're looking for."

What _was_ he doing here? He had to do something."I don't know," Dorian muttered.

"That's perfectly fine," Decipio said, having returned to his previous smarmy tone, though he eyed the mage warily. "How about I leave you to look at our wares? If you decide to purchase anything today, we're adding in a free delousing. We care about our customers, and it really just saves you a step with your new acquisition. Let me know if you need anything." He bowed, deeply this time, as he stepped away.

Despite the revulsion still coiling in his belly, Dorian stepped closer to the cages and peered inside. There were elves of all ages and sizes. Men and women, some elderly and a few children. Many looked scared, but for the most part, their faces were just… empty.

Could he free them? Even if he did, where would they go? They needed food and shelter and proper clothing. Even if he freed one cage, he doubted his landlady would keep quiet about even five escaped slaves.

One slave in a cage at the far end of the cul de sac caught his eye. A young elf, perhaps in his early twenties, who had _vallaslin_ on his face in exactly the same pattern as those on Aeric's face. A captured Dalish, marked with the branches of June. For a moment, Dorian was reminded so painfully of his _amatus_ that his heart seized in his chest, and it was difficult to breathe.

Before Dorian realized what he was doing, he froze the lock on the cage and shattered it. He was about to do the same for the chains at the Dalish's feet when the elf looked up at him in alarm. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Go!" Dorian whispered back. "I'll take care of your chains and cover for you."

The Dalish's eyes turned wide from fear, the first emotion that crossed his face since Dorian had entered the trading area. "Go where? You'll get me in trouble! Is this a test? The masters will flog me if they catch me again. I'm fine. Things are fine." His face brightened, but in a way that did not touch his eyes. "Unless you want to buy me? I will do anything you need me to, master. I'll be good for you, master."

"No…" Dorian murmured, backing away. "I don't…"

"Is this one bothering you, Altus Pavus?"

Dorian turned around to find Decipio behind him, his face questioning. Instead of his insipid salesman smile, he wore a concerned frown.

"Was he talking to you, my Lord?" the slaver continued. "My apologies. They are not supposed to speak unless spoken to. I will see to it that he is reprimanded."

Dorian shook his head. "No, it… it's fine, don't punish him," he stammered. "I… only noticed that the lock was faulty. Your… charges are certainly… loyal."

Decipio's smile was back. "Some of them are a little unruly when we acquire them, but after they're broken in a little, they're perfect for any use you might have for them. Would you like to make a purchase today?"

At the entrance to the cul de sac, Dorian spotted Relyne and let out a breath of relief. He wanted to leave. Now. "No, I would not." Without another word, he hurried over to his steward.

"Let's go," he told her, pulling her by the arm. "Now."

"What are you doing down here, Monsieur?" she hissed.

His head was swimming, and the sickness in his stomach had not gone away. "I couldn't do anything, Relyne. Maker, I'm such a fucking fool."

ooo

_Amatus,_

_You were right. You were absolutely right all along, and I am so, so sorry I ever doubted it. I am an idiot, and the worst kind of idiot - the kind that doesn't even know just how utterly idiotic he is._

_I accidentally went into the slave trading district today. I'd never been. Part of me wishes I still hadn't. It was one of the most horrific things I've ever seen, and - no offense - since I've met you, I've seen a fair share of horrific things. I don't know how I went my entire life, living in cities just like this one, where shit like this happens every day, and had no idea how bad slavery truly was. All those people, being treated like they are nothing, like they are less than nothing. What's worse, they believe that it is the way things should be._

_I want to stop it. I __need__ to stop it. How can I pretend to reform Tevinter if slavery still exists? If the lowest classes of people are not uplifted as well, then what is the point of anything I do here?_

_The thing is, I don't have the faintest clue how I would do that. How do you eradicate centuries of institutionalized forced servitude? How can I free people who are so downtrodden they don't know that freedom exists? I would not even know how to begin. Between this and the blood magic and blatant disregard for life, I'm beginning to feel that this task is too much for me._

_I miss you. I wish you were here. But then, if you were, people would assume you were a slave, and I would have to kill them. Not that they wouldn't deserve it, but there is some semblance of laws here. Yet if anyone would know how to take on an impossible task, it would be you._

_I don't suppose you have any ideas? My hearing with the Magisterium is in five weeks, and I thought I would be prepared. I'm not so sure anymore._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_

ooo

_Ma'nehn,_

_First of all, slow down. You cannot possibly change everything at once. Take things one at a time, and put your faith in people you trust. That is what works for me._

_I've taken the liberty of contacting Varric. He mentioned that his friend Fenris is a former slave who now kills slavers. He and Hawke are somewhere close to Tevinter. Perhaps, with the Inquisition's support, they can turn their random killings into something more organized? The two of them seem open to the idea. If you have any contacts who can discreetly free slaves a little at a time, Hawke and Fenris can bring them south, where they will be safe and can be rehabilitated. _

_Meanwhile, you can concentrate on the political situation in Tevinter. Hopefully by the time they realize that the freed slaves are connected to you, you'll have enough of a foothold on the Magisterium that they can't do anything against you. Perhaps, in time, they might even be more open to the idea of a free Tevinter. At any rate, we won't abolish slavery overnight, but I doubt anything can, aside from a decree from the Archon._

_Do not doubt yourself. I know you will be able to handle whatever challenges you face._

_Love,_

_Aeric_

ooo

_Dearest Amatus,_

_Even from hundreds of miles away, you always know what to say to make me feel better. Thank you._

_I will write a longer letter at a later date, but I just wanted to tell you how amazing you are._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The following two chapters were originally meant to be one chapter, but since it got incredibly long, I split it up. This first part is short, but I will make up for it with a large chapter tomorrow.

* * *

><p><em>Ma'nehn,<em>

_I have just returned from the Emerald Graves a few days ago. Do you remember those giants we decided were better left to their own devices? I had to get rid of them, as they started to move out of their little corner of the Dales, threatening the Inquisition forces stationed in the area. One giant is easy enough. Two is tolerable. Three is a challenge. I find that I draw the line at four giants. There were five. _

_I wish I could tell you that I came out of it unscathed, but I did end up cracking a couple ribs. Stitches, one of the Chargers, gave me a poultice that healed me almost completely. I don't tell you this to worry you, only to let you know what's going on with me, and that I am safe, despite the dangers. I'm beginning to find much of my work to be rather mundane, actually. Much of it is making sure such-and-such dowager doesn't send family retainers after so-and-so marquis, or making appearances at parties in Val Royeaux. Then rifts and bears and various tasks across the endless Hinterlands. Giants, however, are interesting. Five giants are perhaps too interesting._

_You will be having your hearing in a couple days. You and Relyne have worked very hard with preparations, and I know all of it will pay off. You will be, without a doubt, magnificent amongst the Magisterium, as you are in all things. And there won't be any giants. I assume. I've never been to the Hall of Magisters, so what do I know? (Please forgive my attempts at humor. You're so much better at this than I am.)_

_Not that you'll need it, but good luck with your hearing. You are the bravest person I know. You can do this._

_Love always,_

_Aeric_

ooo

"You should talk to him. It would be nice to have an ally in there that we didn't blackmail."

Dorian grunted irritably at Relyne as they rushed up the stairs to the Imperial Senate. They weren't late to the hearing, but Dorian had hoped to get there early to go over his notes. "The less I say to my father, the better our relationship will be," he told her, and he actually believed it. His father had asked for forgiveness, but Dorian was not ready to give it. After finding out that his father had kept him from seeing the truth about slavery as well, he wasn't sure if he would be ready any time soon.

"I am not suggesting you make friends with the man," Relyne replied, her quick feet skipping up the steps with ease. "Only that you make sure he stands with us."

"I'm not sure my father has ever stood with me," Dorian sighed. "If we talk outside the Hall of Magisters, fine. But I won't make an effort of it."

The Senate building was a round structure made of marble, set with gold and crystals that had been there since the Exalted Age. Columns rose fifty feet, surrounding the building, supporting a golden dome that glittered for miles. Since he was a child, Dorian had dreamed of taking his rightful place amongst the Magisterium, of the pride in his father's face when he took over the seat of House Pavus. For a moment, he felt wistful for a life where that future was still possible. In the next, the feeling was gone, replaced by gladness that the life he chose was one where he found freedom to be himself. One where he found Aeric.

As if reading his mind, Relyne spoke up in a hushed voice. "You know they will bring up the Inquisitor."

"Of course they will," Dorian replied in a near-whisper. "They know why I'm here. They'll try to unnerve me." He was determined not to let it work, but even still, fear and nerves bit at his insides. He had never had to be this open about his identity before. Not in his homeland.

"Do you know what you will say?"

They turned a corner into a corridor. Sunlight shining through stained glass cast colored patterns onto the slick marble floor. "Either I'll offer copious details with diagrams and demonstrations, or I'll tell them it's none of their damned business," he said. "I haven't decided. Perhaps both. Either way, I'm through lying to people about it."

"Good," Relyne said with a huff. "I do not know why Tevinter cares so much about such a thing. It is like shunning a person because of their taste in shoes."

Dorian smirked. "I thought Orlesians do shun people for their shoes."

"Perhaps." Relyne gave a small smile. "But that does not make it any less ridiculous."

When they arrived outside the entrance to the Hall of Magisters, they found that some of the Magisterium had also arrived early and were now filing into the Hall. Dorian stepped to the side, taking his notes from Relyne so he could go over them. Just as he was about to open the notebook, he heard someone clear his voice nearby. Dorian looked up. His muscles tensed. "Father."

Halward Pavus stepped toward him, wearing the traditional black hooded robes of the Magisterium. It had been just over a year since Dorian had last seen his father, in the tavern at Redcliffe. Though they were on speaking terms now, Dorian was far from forgiving his father for the attempted blood ritual that would have altered him. And he was far from feeling safe in his presence. "Dorian," his father greeted. "It is good to see you."

Dorian gave a short nod. "Did Mother come with you?"

"No." His father looked down at his hands uncomfortably. "You know she hates to travel."

"Not true." Dorian did not bother hiding the bitterness he could not keep from feeling. "She loves to travel. It's traveling with you that she hates." When his father did not reply, he sighed, not knowing whether he regretted his words. "Come to check up on me before my big speech? I'm flattered."

"I only wanted to see how you were doing," the older man said. "And to wish you luck."

Dorian said nothing, though it meant something that his father did think of him.

After some hesitation, his father began to turn away.

"I may say some things in there that you won't like," Dorian said in a low voice, but loud enough that he knew his father could hear. "I won't exactly be volunteering details about my personal life, but your peers have no doubt heard the rumors. They will try to use them against me."

His father turned back to him. "I… have heard them as well."

"I cannot deny them, Father," Dorian told him. His hands tightened around his notes. "I won't."

"I know." The older man's eyes found his, but Dorian could not read his father's expression. "I do not expect you to."

"You don't mind me humiliating you in front of your colleagues, then?" There was that bitterness again. Dorian couldn't stop himself.

There was a pause before his father answered. "I respect that you will say what you must. How I feel about it does not matter."

_It matters_, Dorian thought, but he watched his father turn and enter the Hall of Magisters without another word.


	6. Chapter 6

The Hall of the Magisterium was a round, multi-tiered room that echoed with footsteps and the murmur of low voices. Like the exterior, the room was largely made of marble, dark gargoyles with demonic faces looking down from above. The magisters all sat in large, high-backed mahogany chairs, carved so that the backs looked like jagged blades, all piercing the air in concentric semi-circles. Magisters were assigned seats based on their relative stature within the Magisterium. Magisters of lesser houses were seated on higher tiers away from the Senate floor and far from the center; worse were the seats towards the entrance, at the rear of whoever was addressing the court. The center seat, closest to the Senate floor, was reserved for the Archon, and was almost always empty except for the most important of proceedings.

The Pavus seat was three seats to the right of the Archon's chair. It should have been Dorian's by now.

As Dorian entered, he took a deep breath and approached the podium at the center of the Senate floor. There was not always a podium, depending on the type of hearing. Sometimes it was a chair for the accused.

It wasn't long before all of the magisters had gathered. Dorian did not turn to look, but he knew that Relyne was watching as well, standing at a spot for attendants and other non-magisters beside the door. He took another deep breath, the nerves easing from his stomach. He was good at talking. He was born for this. Perhaps not from this side of the podium, but speaking in front of magisters was what he was meant to do.

It would all begin here.

The senior-most magister, sitting just to the right of the Archon's chair, got to his feet and pounded his staff into a metal plate embedded in the floor between his chair and the Archon's. The grizzled old magister was from House Hircus, a prestigious family that was now beginning to lose its standing after his grandchildren were born as non-mages. He hit the metal plate with his staff again, and the Hall came to attention. "The Senate is called to order," he announced in a croaking voice. "We gather today to hear testimony on the Elder One, known as Corypheus; his cult, the Venatori; and the Inquisition that stopped them. Who addresses the Magisterium?

Dorian stepped to the side of the podium and gave a sweeping bow before returning to his place. "I do, my Lord," he said in a ringing voice. The words he had practiced hundreds of times in his youth rolled off his tongue with ease. "Dorian of House Pavus, son of Magister Halward Pavus, and altus of the Circle of Vyrantium. I humbly address the Senate Magisterium to give truthful testimony under the eyes of the Maker."

Magister Hircus gave a short bow of his head. "The Senate will hear Altus Dorian Pavus, under the eyes of the Maker. Please begin."

"Thank you, my Lord." Dorian paused, taking another breath before he began. "My esteemed Lords and Ladies of the Imperial Senate, I come to you today to give my first-hand account of the events involving Corypheus and the Venatori, events that nearly destroyed the world as we know it. Though these events took place primarily within the lands of Southern Thedas, we cannot afford to deny that the involvement of our countrymen has had a lasting impact not only within the South, but carries heavy implications for mighty Tevinter as well.

"It was nearly two years ago now that Corypheus killed hundreds of innocent men and women at the Conclave. He rent the very heavens in the process, causing demons to emerge from the Fade to attack the real world. We now know Corypheus to be one of the original magisters who entered the Golden City, the first of the darkspawn. In the-"

"That is sacrilege!" one of the magisters, Lady Lanatae, interrupted. Her face was framed with fluffs of white hair that poked out of the edges of her black hood and bounced as she spoke.

Dorian shook his head. "Sacrilege or no, Magister Lanatae, this is by his own admission. Before his corruption, he was the High Priest of the Old God Dumat and was imprisoned by Grey Wardens in the centuries that followed. The knowledge that he was a Tevinter pains me as much as it must pain you, my Lady. Nevertheless, he was one of ours." He caught the eye of Magister Amladaris who sat in his chair on the second tier with his lips pressed into a thin line. Dorian closed his eyes and opened them, slowly, once. He remembered the agreement between House Amladaris and the Inquisition. No one would know that Corypheus actually belonged to their house.

"Please continue, Altus Pavus," Magister Hircus said.

"Of course, my Lord." Dorian glanced down at his notes to pick up where he left off. "In the months after the destruction of the Conclave, Corypheus and the Venatori caused untold amounts of destruction, threatening the lives of thousands. I myself witnessed my former mentor, Magister Gereon Alexius, a member of the Venatori, use our experimental time magic in an attempt to eliminate the eventual leader of the Inquisition, Aeric Lavellan." A tiny thrill went through Dorian as he said the name of his _amatus_, aloud for all the Magisterium. Even though the mention had nothing to do with Dorian, it felt like a small victory somehow, to acknowledge Aeric, to speak of him amongst people who might otherwise deny his importance. "I believe you might remember Altus Felix Alexius speaking to the Magisterium about the Inquisitor?"

The magister to the left of the Archon's chair spoke up. "Yes, Altus Alexius spoke quite highly of this Inquisitor Lavellan," Magister Tarandrus said. "He defeated Magister Alexius… and yet spared his life, yes?"

"That is correct, my Lord," Dorian replied. "And went on further to defeat Corypheus at each of his schemes. Corypheus and the Venatori tried to raise a demon army by corrupting Grey Wardens, attempted to assassinate Empress Celene Valmont of Orlais, and finally worked to claim an elven artifact of power, all in another attempt to enter the Fade and declare himself a god. With Venatori support, he reopened the Breach and nearly pulled all of Thedas into the chasm."

Tarandrus stroked his dark beard thoughtfully. "Until this Inquisitor stopped him."

"Yes, my Lord. However, my purpose here today is not to exalt the Inquisitor's deeds - however noteworthy - but rather to denounce those of the Venatori." Dorian gestured widely to the seats of the Magisterium. "Look around you. There are several empty seats within this Hall. Magisters Alexius and Erimond are only a few of your number who counted themselves amongst the Venatori. For Magister Alexius, it was desperation that drove him to follow Corypheus, who promised him the ability to heal his son. For Magister Erimond, the lure of power and glory was his downfall." _And the fact that he was a little shit_, Dorian thought to himself.

"In both of their cases," he continued, "and in the cases of all the Venatori magisters no longer here in the Senate today, the promise of power was the bait. The willingness to do anything to attain it was the catalyst in their decision to forsake what was right and turn against sense and morality. Who in their right minds would think it a good idea to tear the world apart, no matter what the reward? All of us live in the world. It should be common sense that our own survival depends on our protecting it."

"Your point, Altus Pavus?" Hircus asked.

Dorian set his shoulders, and when he spoke, his voice rang with passion and conviction. "My point is that it would be easy to excuse these Venatori as insane. But to do so would be to discount the fact that these men who joined the Venatori did so in full knowledge of what they were doing. They were simply corrupt. And while it would be easier, simpler to ignore their corruption, if we truly care about the future of Tevinter, we should do what we can to root it out."

A young magister, seated only three seats to the left of the Archon's chair, scoffed with a slight sneer on his face. Dorian recognized him Julius Anguis, his family's status nearly comparable to that of House Pavus. He was around the same age as Dorian, and must have risen to the magister title within the past few years. Around when Dorian was supposed to, most likely. "Didn't we hear something similar from Maevaris Tilani nearly a year ago?" Anguis drawled.

"Did you, my Lord?" Dorian said idly. Maevaris had told him through letters about her attempt to place limits on Venatori activity, but as he was part of the Inquisition at the time, he wasn't supposed to have shown support of it. She lost much of her standing in the Magisterium as a result of her rebellion. Dorian noticed Maevaris was not in attendance that day; she was likely not even told about the hearing. "I was not in Tevinter at the time, but wasn't Magister Tilani trying to stop the Venatori from spreading throughout Tevinter?"

"More or less," Anguis said with a yawn. "He was trying to punish all of the Magisterium for what a few Venatori magisters tried to do."

Dorian gritted his teeth at the incorrect pronoun and tried to keep his voice level. "From what I understand, _she_ only asked that we better enforce the laws against blood magic and murder already in place. I hardly see what could be so punishing, especially for all the upstanding Tevinter citizens within the Magisterium. You have certainly never participated in blood rituals or murder, have you, my Lord Anguis?"

"Of course not," the magister responded, a touch too quickly.

"Then I fail to see how implementing reforms to already existing laws would affect you directly, my Lord." Dorian cast a smile at Anguis, one he hoped would appear especially cheeky. "In fact, I have trouble seeing why any of the esteemed, law-abiding magisters gathered here might have any qualms about the notion of reform."

Anguis sat up straighter in his chair. "And what paragon of virtue, exactly, is meant to reform mighty Tevinter? You? Magister Tilani? Tell me something, Altus. Please lay to rest the rumors many of us have heard about you."

Dorian swallowed. _Here we go._

"Are you, or are you not involved in a romantic relationship with the Inquisitor?" The magister's expression was insufferable in its triumphant arrogance. Dorian wanted to smack it right off of his face.

"Why, Magister Anguis," Dorian said smoothly, adopting an amused expression onto his face. "Were you interested? In me, perhaps, or the Inquisitor? I could send him a letter on your behalf."

Poorly suppressed laughter tittered in echoes throughout the Hall. The young magister grew red in the face. In rage, Dorian supposed, though the man could have been blushing for all he knew. "I desire no such thing!" Anguis spat.

"Apologies, my Lord." Dorian gave a short bow. "I simply did not see how your question was otherwise relevant."

"It _is_ relevant," Anguis said, gathering his calm and haughty demeanor once more. "You presume to educate Tevinter on morality, and implement these unnecessary reforms. Yet if these rumors are to be believed, you have been engaging in lewd and despicable conduct with some knife-eared Southerner."

The second Dorian heard the slur, rage flared within him so hot that his hand itched to take his staff and end the sneering magister then and there. It was an effort to remember where he was, that if he attacked Anguis now, any hope of swaying the Magisterium would be lost. Dorian forced his anger away, to be dealt with later. "Such language, my Lord," Dorian said, forcing a disapproving frown and shaking his head. "I am sorry to see that your education has not been as extensive as mine. I learned at a young age that slurs and name-calling are the playthings of unwashed commoners. How terribly unfortunate."

More hushed laughter rippled through the gathered magisters, some of whom were now looking expectantly at Magister Anguis for his reaction. The magister opened his mouth to speak, his face bright red once more with a vein sticking out on his forehead, but Magister Hircus held up a hand to stop him.

"We have heard quite enough, Magister Anguis," Hircus said, his face unsmiling. "Altus Pavus is quite right in saying that such language is unbecoming of the Magisterium. That you must be reminded of that fact speaks to a lack of the proper maturity one would expect out of a member of the Imperial Senate."

Anguis said nothing, sitting back in his chair with his hands gripping the arm rests. He glowered at Dorian.

"Pardon," the fluffy-haired Magister Lanatae spoke up. "But Altus Pavus did not answer Magister Anguis' question." Her left hand fidgeted at her collar as she spoke; Dorian wondered if she perhaps had actual pearls that she was trying to clutch through her black robes. "Though I disapprove of his language, he does have a point. How can Altus Pavus presume to introduce moral reforms to Tevinter when he himself is not above reproach?"

Hircus directed his gaze toward Dorian. "Altus? If you would care to respond?"

Dorian held his head high as he spoke. "Magister Lanatae, I do not believe there is anyone here who is above reproach of some kind. We all have our faults, after all."

The old woman leaned forward in her chair, her hand still grasping at her collar. "But are the rumors true? Are you engaging in despicable conduct with this Inquisitor?"

Nerves twisted at his stomach. He imagined Aeric beside him, encouraging him with his silent confidence. "I am involved with Inquisitor Lavellan, yes." His voice was steady, even. He was rather proud of himself for that fact. "Whether or not my involvement with him is 'despicable', my Lady Lanatae, is a subjective matter, and would require divulging details that I daresay would be inappropriate in this forum."

A hum of the magisters' chattering voices filled the room. Dorian chanced a glance at his father. Halward Pavus sat in his chair with his hands steepled in front of his face. What the older man felt about his son's public admission, Dorian could not read from his expression.

"How can there be any question?" Lanatae was saying, her voice raised to be heard above the chatter. "Of course that is despicable conduct! It is unnatural!"

Hircus pounded the metal plate with his staff to quiet the Magisterium.

"That is, of course, your opinion, my Lady Lanatae," Dorian said. He looked down at his notes, turning to a page filled with Relyne's handwriting. "However, I fail to see how my personal affairs negate the need for further measures against blood magic, mind control, and murder. There are far worse things, I'm told. Some people…" He glanced down at the notes again. "…perform blood rituals on family members to ensure they gain a seat in the Magisterium. But I am certain we would never find someone like that attending this hearing today, would we, my Lady?"

Magister Lanatae grew pale. "No, Altus Pavus, I suppose not."

After making a mental note to thank Relyne for her information, Dorian directed his attention back towards Magister Hircus. "All I ask for today is that the honorable Magisterium consider my proposal, which my steward will now be handing out to you." He heard movement behind him, of Relyne passing out the copies they had received from the scribes this morning. "Make no mistake: reform in Tevinter is absolutely necessary. Corypheus and the Venatori nearly destroyed the world, and the rest of Thedas look to hold us responsible. If we are to repair our legacy, we must prove ourselves capable of better than what the Venatori have made us out to be. Tevinter _is_ capable of better. Tevinter _can_ rise to the challenge, if only we allow it."

Magister Hircus nodded, then gazed around at his fellow magisters. "We will put it to vote, then. Keep in mind that this is not to accept any changes that Altus Pavus has proposed, only to determine whether such changes should even be considered as necessary. All in favor of possible reforms - to be discussed at a later date - in light of recent events involving the Venatori, please light your staffs."

Glowing light flickered from dozens of staffs all around Dorian, each signaling their agreement. Young magister Anguis' staff was dark, of course, as was that of Magister Tarandrus, the second highest ranking senator. Lady Lanatae had grudgingly lit hers, and Hircus himself had lit his. Dorian was hoping for at least half; the information Relyne had gathered on many of the magisters should swing things in their favor.

There was silence as Hircus counted the lit staffs. Yet as Dorian looked around, trying to count for himself, the number no longer mattered. He caught sight of his father's staff, and it seemed to glow brighter than any other. Dorian smiled at him, the first time he could remember doing so in recent years. He thought he could see a faint smile on his father's face in return.

Hircus slammed the foot of his staff into the metal plate again. "The Magisterium has voted. The majority is in favor of Altus Pavus' reforms: 39 lit to 28 dark." Hircus smiled. "Congratulations, Altus. You may see the Senate Clerk to schedule another hearing to discuss your proposal."

Dorian stepped to the side of the podium and bowed. "My Lord Magister Hircus, my Lords and Ladies of the Magisterium, thank you."

Another two raps of the staff against the plate. "I call this assembly of the Imperial Senate adjourned."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dorian gathered his notes and turned to leave. He slipped through the crowd of magisters by the exit and found Relyne by the doorway. "Well! That went better than expected!" He smiled.

"You have worked hard for this, Monsieur Pavus," she said, giving him a small smile of her own. "I have worked hard for it as well. I may ask for a raise."

Dorian chuckled. "I'll give it to you if we ever gain anything from this venture of ours. Social activism does not appear to pay well."

"So it would seem." Relyne sighed dramatically.

Dorian was about to respond when someone clipped him hard in the shoulder. Rubbing the spot where he had been hit, he looked up to see who it was, and was unsurprised to find that it had been Anguis, already halfway down the hall. "Fucking _culus_…" Dorian muttered under his breath.

Relyne stared down the hall where Anguis had been; he had now disappeared around a corner. "Watch out for that one," she whispered. "He appears to take his damaged pride quite seriously. And you wounded him twice in front of his peers today."

"Oh, he'll likely send assassins after me," Dorian said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's like sending a fruit basket in these parts, only with fewer apples and more daggers."

"You do like making work for me, Monsieur."

ooo

_Dearest Amatus,_

_We won! That is, the Magisterium agreed to talk about my reform proposal further, rather than throwing it out straightaway. Time will tell if anything truly comes of this, but for today, a victory is a victory. I can hardly believe it._

_They asked about us, you know. It was meant to shame me, to degrade me in the eyes of the Magisterium. Perhaps for some of them, their opinion of me has degraded. Yet, I think for the first time, I felt unashamed. I told them the truth, and I feel different. Liberated, maybe. Perhaps this sounds strange to you, because very few people care about this sort of thing down South. I cannot comprehend growing up in such a society, where you're different, but that's… all right? Normal? Such a novelty. At any rate, I doubt I would have had the courage to remain true to myself if it were not for you. I know you're not here, but I still carry you with me, in a fashion. Knowing you're out there somewhere, caring for me the way that you do, gives me strength. So, thank you._

_I think my father might have smiled at me during the hearing. He seemed almost… proud. I didn't get the chance to speak with him afterward, but it was something. I'm still not sure whether I can ever forgive him for what he tried to do to me, but I don't think I'm as angry as I was. Still furious, merely… less so._

_Anyway, this day has been exhausting, and I am - for once - eager to talk about something other than myself for a time. I think I'll have some wine to celebrate and listen to Relyne not tell me stories. I'm still a tad bitter about the no-stories-thing. Could you tell?_

_I miss you._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_


	7. Chapter 7

_My dear Amatus,_

_I cannot stop thinking about you. I thought it would get better after a few weeks, after I got used to your absence. Yet, here we are, months later. And if anything, it's only getting worse. It's maddening. If it were only at night, I would not mind so much. Instead, it's happening at all hours of the day. First thing in the morning. When my mind wanders as I'm reading. In the middle of a fancy dinner with Magister Aquila. That last one was especially awkward. Luckily, Aquila is a woman who takes little notice of anything not directly related to her, otherwise she might have seen that my discomfort had nothing to do with the quality of her dining chairs._

_I must say, I am a little disappointed at the lack of naughty letters thus far. I suppose I'll have to start then, but I will have you know that I expect something equally lascivious when I hear from you next._

_I long for you. Inside me, around me. However I can have you, I want it. I imagine you standing above me, naked but for the moonlight, and… Maker, you are so glorious. Even merely writing it drives me to madness, and it is not long before I am daydreaming of you moving within me, or even simply of my hands on your magnificent round arse. And, oh, the things I could do with that delicious mouth of yours. There is nothing about you that does not excite me, that does not set my heart racing. I ache, both in body and soul, to have you with me again._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_

ooo

Aeric should not have read this letter right away.

High in Skyhold's tower, he sat in the rookery, at the table that had once been Leliana's. He often read Dorian's letters there, too eager to have word from him to wait until a more private setting. The tower itself, despite the constant crowing of the birds, felt like a second home to Aeric. Even aside from the books he loved so dearly, the library in the floor below held whispers of memory within it; the cozy windowed alcove with the large, plush chair was especially nostalgic.

Now, however, the tower was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Aeric felt his ears grow hotter with each word of Dorian's letter, and his trousers seemed tighter. Thank the Creators the table was there to hide his lower half from passersby.

Aeric folded the letter with peaceful reverence, to read again later when he was alone in his quarters. For the moment, however, he was a bit trapped. Dorian had been right about trying not to think of something; it really was impossible to get something out of your mind once it was there. He hadn't thought to bring a book, so he sat at the table as he waited for his discomfort to pass, tossing bits of corn to the ravens who had become his lifeline.

When Dorian had left, Aeric had no illusions that it would be difficult. All the letters in the world could never compare to the actual presence of the person you loved. To be able to share a thought or a feeling at a moment's notice. To be able to touch and be touched. Yet, while Aeric knew how hard it would be to be apart from one another, he wasn't prepared for how deeply it affected him. Most nights, he lay awake, unable to keep his mind from finding peace long enough to fall asleep. It wasn't even about sex most of the time, though Aeric found his mind wandering that way often enough. Too often. Too many nights when he was alone with himself and thoughts of Dorian.

No, what was most difficult was the feeling of waiting, of knowing that there was a day - some six months, one week, and three days away - when he would be with Dorian again, and that all the days leading up to it were in anticipation of that moment.

"Josephine said I might find you up here."

Aeric started, so lost in thought he hadn't noticed Cullen come up the stairs. "Commander," he greeted, tossing another pinch of corn to the ravens. "Something I can do for you?"

"Yes," Cullen said, stepping closer. He placed a few papers on the table. "Here is the report regarding our last mission into the Dales. Our troops have cleared out most of the remaining malcontents after the civil war. And, as we discussed in the War Room, I need you to sign this order to send some of our forces to assist the Pentaghasts in Nevarra."

Aeric picked up the report and nodded. "Was that all? Normally you would send a messenger for this sort of thing."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I wanted to ask how you were doing, actually."

"Why?" Aeric asked, brow furrowed as he skimmed the report. "I'm fine."

"Is that so?" Cullen pulled a chair out and sat across from Aeric at the table. "Because you haven't seemed yourself since-"

"Since Dorian left," Aeric finished for him. "So people keep telling me." He had a long talk with Bull about it a few days ago, and last week Blackwall had taken him aside to take out some of his frustration by chopping wood. Aeric almost smiled at the thought. Chopping wood. Dorian would have made a joke about it.

"We are merely concerned, as your friends."

"I know."

Cullen ran a hand through his hair. "If it were only your demeanor during your personal time, we would still be worried of course, but we would leave you with it. But even when it comes to Inquisition matters…"

Aeric raised an eyebrow. "Has the quality of my work been suffering?"

"No, the work still gets done well," Cullen said slowly. "But… it seems your heart isn't in it anymore. Not like before."

Aeric leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "You know I hate politics, Cullen. And that is largely what my position has become now that Corypheus is gone. I am now a politician."

"I sympathize. I hate the Game as much as you do. All the lies and manipulation…" Cullen shook his head with disgust. "Still, the work we do is important. We keep the peace throughout Southern Thedas now."

Aeric gave a smirk, a mirthless thing. "'Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just'?"

Cullen nodded. "Something like that. The Templar Order came from the first Inquisition, after all."

"And that means what to me?" Aeric asked, unable to keep himself from scowling. "Everyone keeps forgetting I don't believe in Andraste or the Maker. They may all call me the Herald of Andraste, but that does not make it so."

Cullen's eyes narrowed in consternation, and Aeric sighed. Cullen believed Aeric was the sent by the Maker, he knew. That Andraste's Herald was a Dalish elf who barely believed in his own gods, much less in the Maker, had to have been confusing.

"I apologize," Aeric said. A raven landed nearby, looking for more corn. He idly tossed it a few kernels. "My sister always used to say that I lacked tact."

"No, you can be frank with me," Cullen told him, his expression softening. "We could stand to be more sensitive about your difference of belief." He looked at Aeric curiously then, his head cocked to one side. "Is that what it is, then? Why you don't seem to care as you did?"

"Perhaps."

There was more to it, and Aeric knew that Cullen could tell, perceptive as he was. The former templar waited patiently as Aeric gathered his thoughts.

"Have you ever been in love, Cullen?"

Cullen's eyes widened; the question was not what he expected. "I… don't know," he began, a slow blush appearing on his cheeks. "There's a young woman amongst the mages. We've been… playing chess."

Aeric smiled. "Is that a euphemism?"

"What?" The blush on Cullen's cheeks quickly migrated to his ears. "No! It's chess. Just chess." His eyes took on a faraway look and a smile crept across his lips. "She cheats at it every time. And I beat her at it just as often. I think… I think she does it to make me laugh." He blinked as if startled, coming back from his reverie. "Her name is Megra."

The name sounded familiar. "Megra… Trevelyan? Isn't she a noble?"

Cullen nodded. "Yes, of noble birth, but she was sent to the Ostwick Circle at a young age."

"And you'd like to do more with her than just play chess?" Aeric asked, amused.

"No! I mean, yes! Well, that is…" Cullen floundered, rubbing the back of his neck again. His face was like a radish now. "Maker's Breath, how did we end up talking about me?"

"I was only curious," Aeric said with a soft chuckle, though the smile that came with it quickly faded. The raven nipped at his sleeve and cawed loudly. He tossed it more corn. "Dorian is the first person I can say with certainty that I've ever been in love with. It's been… amazing."

Cullen smiled and nodded, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

Another caw. More corn. "But he's not coming back."

"Wait, what?" Cullen leaned forward in his chair, his face falling into a frown. "I thought you two had an arrangement."

"We do. In a little over six months, he will visit." Aeric folded his hands on the table, letting the raven nip at his fingers. "Visit. A few weeks, or a month maybe. But after that, he has to go back to Tevinter, and it starts all over again." He watched the raven peck at him, not breaking skin, but pinching all the same. "Dorian's not coming back. Not for good."

"I… don't know what to say," Cullen said softly. "I'm sorry."

Aeric shrugged, still watching the raven.

"And you resent the Inquisition for keeping you here?"

"Perhaps a little," Aeric said, finally raising his eyes to meet Cullen's gaze.

"You're no one's prisoner, Aeric." Cullen paused and gave a small smile. "At least, not anymore. You could leave if you wished."

"I know." The elf tossed the raven a few final bits of corn then shooed it away with a wave of his left hand. He looked at the hand, the jagged lines of the Mark calm and un-glowing, like normal scars. "But so long as there are still rifts to close, I cannot abandon you all. I am still needed here."

"Is that why you've been concentrating on the rifts so much lately?" Cullen asked. "Every time you've left Skyhold these past few months, it's almost always to close rifts."

Aeric nodded.

"You could join Dorian after they are gone, then."

"That is my hope."

Cullen watched him for a moment then gave a nod, as if coming to a decision. "Then I will help you. I will talk with Scout Harding, and have her concentrate her efforts on finding any and all remaining rifts across Ferelden and Orlais. The sooner, the better, right?"

Aeric smiled. "Right."

Getting to his feet, Cullen returned the smile. "To work, then. I will speak to her immediately."

As Cullen turned to go, Aeric called after him. "Cullen?"

Cullen looked over his shoulder, his brow raised expectantly.

"Thank you."

With another nod, he headed down the stairs.

Aeric stood as well, gathering the papers and Dorian's letter. "I'll be back with a letter for you tomorrow," he told the birds as he looked around at them. After giving one of them an affectionate stroke on the chest with his finger, he headed down the stairs to retire to his quarters, where he would answer Dorian's letter, in private.

ooo

_Ma'nehn, ma sa'lath,_

_Your last letter has left me weak in the imagining of all that you described. I want it. I want it all. Has it really only been six months since you left here? It feels infinitely longer, and longer still until the year is ended. I long to have you at my side again, to hear your voice, to see your smile. I think that when you return, I will be unable to deny anything you ask of me, I will be so overjoyed. Be sure to take advantage._

_I love you. Ma'arlath. Te amo. I have never met anyone as gorgeous as you. Did you know? I fear I might forget. I miss the warmth of your lips on mine, your breath sighing in my ear, the feel of you in my arms. I yearn for your hands on my back, your nails scratching trails down it as I move within you. I want nothing more than to hear your voice urging me onward, harder, faster. But most of all, I merely want you to be the very last thing I see at night before sleep, and the very first thing I see in the morning upon waking. Let me see your disheveled hair at the start of the day, before you've had the chance to run a comb through it. Wake me in the middle of the night with candlelight and a book in your hand and your anger at Genitivi's interpretation of Tevinter in the Blessed Age. These are a seduction for me as much as the perfect curve of your thigh or the firmness of your chest._

_To say I miss you would be redundant at this point. Only know that I, too, ache to be with you again, and that you are in my thoughts always._

_Love,_

_Aeric_

ooo

Dorian sat at the desk in his bedroom, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat as he read Aeric's letter a second time. His fingers ran over each word, as if the touch of the paper could compensate for the longing in his chest. As he finished, he brought the letter to his lips and kissed it softly.

"You marvelous idiot," he whispered with a sad smile. "This wasn't what I was looking for at all."


	8. Chapter 8

_Dear Amatus,_

_I had another hearing with the Magisterium. This one was not nearly so formal as the last two; just a meeting to determine what parts of my proposal were worth talking about and which magisters should be talking about them with me. All very dull and, frankly, seemed much like a waste of time at best and a stalling tactic at worst. Or is that the other way around? Bureaucracy is an excellent way of pretending to get things done without actually doing anything at all. I may need to consider a different tactic to get things moving. _

_At any rate, I have another meeting in just over a week - this time, with our newly formed "Reform Committee" (boring, terrible name) - where we might finally discuss the actual reforms I am proposing. I specifically asked for Maevaris to work with me, so we will at least have one person genuinely on our side. Passer and Aquila are also with us, though their loyalty is a tad questionable. Magister Amladaris - who you may remember was __very__ interested in my research into Corypheus - is also on the committee, though his loyalties are unknown. He probably only wants to ensure that certain secrets remain secret. The two who will cause trouble are Tarandrus and Lanatae. Lanatae is only barely on our side because she knows we have information on her. Tarandrus, however, would appear to oppose us, and he is among the very highest ranking magisters in the Senate. I feel as if I am walking into a pit of serpents. Thankfully, Magister Anguis was denied a place on the committee. Bigoted git._

_Speaking of Anguis… he may have sent assassins after me. I do not mean to worry you, but Relyne says she has heard rumors that he plans to strike before the committee has their first meeting, so that my reforms will never come to pass. Which is just silly, because it's already a long shot that much will come out of the early meetings. But he rather hates me for the way I humiliated him a few months ago, so I suppose he isn't thinking rationally. Rest assured that Relyne is keeping a close eye on me, and I've been setting wards around my room at night. I am being cautious._

_How have you been? Are you all right? It may only be my imagination, but the tone of your recent letters sounded rather melancholy. Josephine says you've been keeping to yourself more often lately. I know you like being alone, amatus, but do try to spend some time with our friends every once in a while. Everything can't be all work, and you deserve to enjoy yourself however you can. Please take care of yourself._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_

ooo

Dorian's mind was wandering again.

He was mostly confined to their quarters until the Reform Committee meeting next week, at Relyne's request. Until they knew the danger had passed, she wanted to be able to keep an eye on him without complications. After a trip to the Imperial Library, however, Dorian was more than happy to catch up on his reading and take a break from meeting magisters, smiling at their parties, and speaking in half-truths all the time. The down-time did mean that he felt Aeric's absence all the more, though.

Before he met Aeric, Dorian always used to scoff at what he felt were blatant clichés in the novels he read. Heartstrings, for instance. Hearts had no strings. What a ridiculous notion. But as he thought about Aeric, about the sadness laced subtly in each word of his recent letters, about how much he wished he could fly to Aeric and ease it from his mind, Dorian felt it. A tug. A soft, steady pull in his chest, as if some unseen thing had wrapped itself around his heart, a taut tether connecting him to his _amatus_. Heartstrings.

Dorian sat in a plush chair in the parlor of his quarters and stared out the south-facing window, wondering what Aeric was doing at that precise moment. His book, a study on new ways of focusing Entropy magic, lay open in his lap, almost completely forgotten. He had just been debating whether Aeric might be reading in the garden or out on a mission when his reverie was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

"Don't answer it," Relyne warned, rising from her chair across the room.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I doubt Anguis' assassins would knock, my dear."

"Many think as you do. But it is an easy enough way to get your prey to lower their guard, Monsieur, for exactly that reason." She crossed the room, hand on a dagger, hidden behind the door as she answered it.

Hearing Relyne talk to the man in the foyer, Dorian guessed it was someone she knew and went back to his book.

After several moments, the door closed, and Relyne reentered the room with a note in hand. She stared at it, frowning.

Dorian marked his place in the book again with a fingertip and looked up at her. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," she murmured before looking down at him with her brow furrowed in consternation. "That man was a messenger from my contact within the assassin's guild."

"You have contacts within the _Umbra Societatem_?" Dorian said, his eyes widening. "I _really_ don't pay you enough."

Relyne gave a little smirk. "Indeed, Monsieur." Her face fell quickly into her worried frown, and she smacked the note in her hand with the back of her fingers. "This is a copy of Magister Anguis' account. Or, at least, a partial copy. My contact did not have time to take down more than the most crucial details."

"And?"

She handed the note to Dorian. "And it says that the assassin Anguis hired was dispatched over two weeks ago."

Dorian looked down at the note. There were columns down the small piece of paper. One column held five digit numbers that he supposed were the client's identification or account. The numbers were all the same, all Anguis'. The man had no less than seven open assignments. He certainly liked his assassins.

The next column held a date, probably the day the assassin was sent out on their assignments. The last held a few physical descriptors, of the target presumably: race, age, distinguishing features. "Which line is me? And why is it troubling that the assassin was sent out two weeks ago? Don't assassins need time to… infiltrate? Or whatever it is assassins do to get close to their mark?"

Relyne pointed to a line and nodded. "They do, but it depends on the situation. A man who is constantly surrounded by people may require the assassin to spend weeks on the assignment. They must take the time to become part of the staff, to become a familiar and trusted face. You do not surround yourself with friends, Monsieur. The staff at this inn is all composed of Madame Clio's family members. It is far more likely they would strike directly and without delay, when you are asleep or in a crowd."

"Wonderful," Dorian said, his eyes falling on the line Relyne indicated, the last on the page. The date was indeed over two weeks ago.

"The point is," Relyne pressed on, "the assassin should have struck by now. There is no reason why there should be such a long delay."

Dorian ran a fingertip along the line, and followed it to the column with the physical description. There were only three words in the box, the last word written in the hurried, jagged letters of a person about to be caught. _Dark hair. Tattoos._ "That's strange," he muttered. "I don't have tat-"

_Dark hair. Tattoos. Two weeks._ Dorian gasped. "Oh _venhedis_…" he breathed.

Relyne looked down at him sharply. "What is it?"

The strings around his heart tightened, twisted. It was difficult to breathe. "I'm not the target." His voice shook. "Relyne, I'm not the target!"

"What? That can't be right." She snatched the note back from him.

"Tattoos, Relyne! Do you see any on me?"

"I thought perhaps they might be in a place I could not see, Monsieur," she said with a smirk.

Dorian was not in the mood for joking. He got to his feet, his book falling to the carpet with a thump. "That bastard's going after Aeric!"

"But that does not mean…"

Running his hands through his hair, Dorian paced before her, glaring each time he passed. "_Think_! Aeric's hair is dark brown. He has tattoos. It takes two weeks to reach Skyhold from here. And they accept anyone there, without question! The assassin wouldn't even have to infiltrate the damned place! Just walk right into the grounds and stay the night with the refugees. And if anything happened to him…" He couldn't finish the sentence. His breath came in short gasps that he fought to control.

"You would be devastated," Relyne finished for him in a low voice. She gritted her teeth. "Unable to proceed with the meetings."

"Oh Maker, I have to warn him. I have to warn him!" Dorian darted to his desk, pulling out quill and parchment. One letter to Aeric, one to Cullen. He didn't know the name of the new spymaster, but he wrote one to Josephine as well. Drops of ink littered the pages; his hands would not stop trembling.

As soon as he was finished and the ink was dry, he folded up the letters and took them to the balcony, where one of the Skyhold ravens rested in a cage. He coaxed the bird out and inserted the papers into the tube dangling from its leg. "Fly home," he told it. "Find Aeric. Please hurry." He cast a haste spell on it before letting it loose. It was gone in the blink of an eye.

The spell would only last a few minutes. He prayed it would be enough to give the raven a head start. _Please don't be too late, please don't be too late…_

Aeric's life. And it all depended on the wings of a bird.

Dorian walked back inside and slumped into his chair, doubled over with his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. "Fuck… _fuck_! If he dies…" His heart beat a rapid tattoo in his chest. The words made his throat close. He swallowed. "If he dies, it will be all my fault for coming here. I should never have come here, Relyne. I should never have come here!"

Relyne knelt in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. "It is not your fault, Monsieur. It is this Anguis."

"Who went after Aeric because he isn't protected by a prestigious family and powerful father," Dorian said bitterly. "No doubt that's why I'm not the target. My father would end Anguis and his family if he had me killed. Or perhaps he doesn't want to make a martyr out of me. Murder the altus who was calling for reform? Of course we need reforms now!" He took a stuttering breath. "Maker, I should never have antagonized him."

She shook her head. "No, it is not your fault. This coward, he deserved what you said to him."

"At what cost? Aeric's life?" He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He had only ever been scared like this twice in his life. Escaping his father's blood ritual. Aeric staying behind in the Fade. "He could be dead already, for all I know!"

"The Inquisitor will be all right," Relyne said softly, though Dorian could hear the doubt in her voice. "He has survived worse before."

"I hope you're right." _Maker, if you're really there, please let him be all right. Please._ "I can't lose him. I can't. If anything happens to him, I will never forgive myself."

ooo

_Aeric,_

_Your life is in peril. An assassin left here weeks ago. They're coming for you. They may already be there. Station guards, take precautions, make sure your food is checked. And please, please let me know as soon as possible that you are safe._

_- Dorian_

ooo

_Commander,_

_A magister has sent an assassin after Aeric. They may be in Skyhold already. Guard him at all costs. Please, I beg you, protect him._

_- Dorian_

ooo

_Josephine,_

_I am sending letters to everyone. Aeric is in danger from an assassin. They left here weeks ago. They may already be in Skyhold. I don't know what you can do, but please make sure he is safe. Have him send word if he is all right._

_- Dorian_


	9. Chapter 9

For the third time that week, Aeric was having a hard time falling asleep. He wasn't sure what it was exactly. Lying on his back in bed, he stared at the ceiling with his left arm resting on his forehead. He thought that after eight months without Dorian, he would be used to sleeping alone. He supposed part of him didn't want to get used to it, didn't want to admit that this was anything more than a temporary situation. And it was probably too late now to change. Only four months to go.

Rolling onto his side, Aeric curled up under the covers and tried to imagine Dorian there beside him. It was harder now than it used to be; he was beginning to forget what it felt like. Even still, after several moments, Aeric felt himself finally start to relax.

A soft tap on the balcony. Aeric had left the balcony doors open, as he often did, allowing the cool breeze of early summer to drift in. His eyes started to close, the scent of embrium and crystal grace in the air reminding him of sleeping under the stars with his clan.

His skin crawled, his back tingled. He was almost asleep, but he recognized the feeling. His eyes shot open. He was being watched.

Aeric rolled. A dagger came down where his head had been, grazing his left ear and slicing off a small tuft of hair as it narrowly missed him. With his legs tangled in the sheets, he fell off the bed with a thud. His bow and quiver were behind him, leaned up against the railing, just out of reach. The hooded assassin pried her dagger loose from the mattress and lunged at him again.

With both legs still caught in a ball of cloth, Aeric kicked at the assassin with both legs, sending her staggering backward over the foot of the bed. He kicked frantically at the sheets as he crawled with his arms to reach his weapons. As soon as his legs were finally free, he leapt to his feet, catching hold of his bow with one hand and an arrow with another. No time to buckle the quiver on. He loosed the arrow at his attacker, who was coming at him again. She moved in a zigzag, flowing like water from one point to the next, dodging the first arrow and the next.

She was closing in too fast. Aeric grabbed a handful of arrows and shot three at once as he leapt backwards, falling onto his feet in the stairwell below. He heard a cry of pain. One of the arrows must have hit, though he wasn't about to stay to find out how badly she was wounded. He ran through the door and down the next set of stairs. Two arrows left. No daggers or even armor. He was almost defenseless. Gods, he wasn't even clothed - just a bow and his smallclothes. If he could reach the Great Hall, the guards there would be able to defend him.

As he pulled open the door to the Great Hall, he could hear the soft, bounding footfalls of the assassin behind him. But as Aeric darted through the doorway, he knew something was wrong. The guards were there, but disarmed and slowed to a near standstill. Poisoned, probably, by Crow's Venom or something similar that restricted movement. No one else nearby to help; all the sleeping quarters were too far away. Thinking quickly, he jumped over the throne at the center of the dais just as the assassin burst through the door from his quarters. He turned and shot at her again, but the arrow only grazed her cheek. Whoever she was, she was skilled, to be able to dodge his arrows. He crossed the Hall and shot again before running into the Undercroft, slamming the door shut behind him.

There was only a warded lock to secure the door. The assassin was too small in stature to slam through even such a simple lock, but it would be quick work for an experienced rogue to pick. Aeric braced himself against the door as he scanned the workshop quickly for useable weapons. Most of the weaponry were swords and daggers without handles or hilts, but he spotted a cluster of arrows, only missing the fletching. The fletch-less arrows would be almost useless at more than twenty yards, but in that space, he wouldn't need the range. He bounded to the arrows and gathered them into a nearby quiver. The sound of the assassin's pick rattling in the lock echoed in the cave-like chamber. Belting on the quiver, he hid in the shadows.

A second later, the assassin burst through the door. Crouching low, she hunted him, the room illuminated only by the moonlight glinting off the waterfall. Aeric, hidden as he was, tracked her as best he could in the relative darkness. He was careful not to move beyond adjusting his aim; with her apparent skill, she would detect another rogue moving in stealth easily. He lined up a shot and loosed the arrow. Unfinished as it was, it skewed off course, but pierced her left thigh. She gave a cry of pain that deterred her for only a moment; in the next, she threw two small knives at him. He ducked behind Dagna's workstation, but one of the knives sliced through his right shoulder. Aeric hissed with pain.

The assassin broke the shaft of the arrow lodged in her leg then lunged at him. Even with her injury, she was fast. Aeric leapt over the workstation to evade her and shot again, trying to compensate for the inaccurate arrows. Three shots fired, missing her head and neck. Instead, they hit but did not pierce the hardened leather covering her chest. Another shot, this one grazing her shoulder just above her collar bone. As he ran, the assassin threw another two knives, one just missing his left cheek. The other pierced his right calf, and he stumbled, catching himself with his hands on Harritt's anvil.

In the next second, she leapt over him, bringing her boot down on Aeric's right wrist, breaking it against the anvil with a sickening crunch. He cried out, even as he threw his bleeding shoulder into her leg, knocking her off balance. She toppled backwards onto the stone floor, but even then, Aeric knew she would recover quickly.

He stumbled as far away from her as he could, discarding his bow, knowing he would not be able to shoot without the use of his right hand. He stared at the Anchor on his left, trying to focus through the pain to bring it to life. _Concentrate…_ He heard her getting up behind him. She would be on him at any moment. _Concentrate. You promised Dorian. You promised. You swore it wouldn't be a lie._

The Anchor flared with green light just as the assassin tackled him from behind. Aeric twisted in her grasp. With a yell, he pressed the Mark into her face and pulled at the Fade, bringing down blinding energy to rain upon her. She screamed, her face contorting in agony for several seconds before she collapsed on top of him, dead.

Aeric shoved her corpse off of his chest and lay on the Undercroft floor, exhausted. There were faint voices and footsteps somewhere beyond the door. Perhaps the poison had worn off and the guards were coming. Blood spilled down his leg and shoulder. His right hand hung from his arm at a strange angle, already swollen to twice its usual size. He felt lightheaded.

A moment later, the Undercroft door flew open. Cullen and the guards rushed in; the Commander ready with his sword and shield, but only dressed in a loose tunic and trousers. "There!" he shouted, pointing at Aeric. "Inquisitor! Are you alive?"

Aeric gave a weak chuckle. "You're late," he said, his vision beginning to tunnel. Try though he might to keep his eyes open, within moments, everything went dark.

ooo

Dorian paced beside the balcony doors, as he had been doing for the past three days. His arms were crossed over his chest, with the knuckles of his left hand pressed against his lips. At every sound on the balcony, he looked up, searching for a raven. When, of course, there wasn't one, he would resume his pacing, unable to chase the fearful thoughts from his mind.

It took two days for a raven to reach Skyhold from Minrathous. Hopefully less so for a raven with a haste spell on it. Two more days for them to send word back to him. Word would come soon, and he would know. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Relyne had left early that morning to talk to some of her contacts. "You make me nervous with that thing you're doing," she declared. "You need to calm down. Sit. Eat. Sleep. Something other than this all day." After instructing him to set wards around their suite, she left with a worried frown on her face.

He tried to sit and read, but he couldn't. He organized his books three times. What sleep he managed to get was plagued with anxious nightmares he couldn't remember upon waking. He took short walks that left him more nervous than when he left. So he paced. And as he paced, a silent war waged in his thoughts. _You've lost him_, part of his mind told him. _He's likely dead already. You'll never see him again_. Another voice rose up in protest. _No, he'll be fine. He survived the Conclave and Haven. He survived an archdemon. He survived Corypheus. He can survive one measly assassin. Have faith._ He clung to the second voice. He had to believe Aeric would make it through. He had to.

It felt like he was going mad.

A loud caw startled Dorian out of his thoughts. He turned toward the windowed balcony doors and stared for a moment at the raven hopping on the railing. Coming to his senses, he threw open the doors and rushed to the bird, almost startling it away in the process. His hands fumbled at the tube hanging from its leg and pulled out the letter.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest. _He'll be all right, he'll be all right…_ Dorian looked down at the letter and prepared to open it. And froze.

The handwriting on the envelope wasn't Aeric's.

As he stepped back inside, Dorian continued to stare at the envelope, addressed in Josephine's curling script to "Lord Dorian Pavus". Dropping the letter onto the desk, he sank into the chair and simply watched the envelope, as if waiting for it to turn into something else. _No, no, no… It doesn't mean anything,_ he told himself, pressing steepled fingers to his lips. _It doesn't mean anything…_

He heard the sound of the door opening behind him, followed by a shout. "Monsieur! Take down the wards, if you please. I would like not to be turned to ice today." When he didn't immediately respond, Relyne's voice turned irritable. "Monsieur! I will only tolerate being frozen twice before I quit!"

Without turning around, Dorian waved a hand, releasing the ward at the door.

"Oh, good, you have stopped your pacing," she said by way of greeting as she entered behind him. There was a pause. "Is something wrong?"

Dorian's voice as he answered was hushed, almost a whisper. "The letter came."

Her soft footsteps drew closer. "What did it say?" she asked gently.

"I don't know," Dorian said, shrugging. "I haven't opened it yet."

Relyne huffed in exasperation, making the tight black ringlets around her face shake. "Oh, _merde_, what do you mean you haven't opened it yet? You have been driving me insane with your restlessness for three days waiting for this letter, and you haven't opened it?"

"It's not in his handwriting." Dorian looked up at her. The expression on her face was a strange mix of compassion, pity, and frustration. "Why wouldn't he write me himself, Relyne?"

"Any number of reasons, Monsieur," she answered. "None of which you will know if you do not open the letter."

Dorian looked back at it, his stomach twisting itself into knots, and shook his head. "If it's what I think, then I'd rather not know."

"Oh, Andraste's mercy, give it here!" Relyne reached across the desk and snatched up the letter, swatting his hands as he grabbed for it. With a rip, she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. She unfolded it, glanced at the page for only a second, then folded it up and thrust it back at him. "He is alive."

Dorian gaped at her with wide eyes before furrowing his brow in consternation. "Are you sure? You barely looked at it!"

Relyne took his hand and pressed the letter into it. "Read."

Dorian sighed and nodded.

As she turned and walked away, he could hear her muttering under her breath. "Maker preserve me, I work for an aggravating man."

Already feeling the fear lifting from him, Dorian gave a little smirk before turning towards the letter. He took a deep breath and opened it.

Immediately, he knew why Relyne did not need more than a glance to tell Aeric was alive. Dorian let out a long breath of relief. At the top of the page was a short note, written in shaky, jagged letters, like those of a child only just learning to write. It read:

_Ma'nehn,_

_I am fine. Hand broken. Writing with left. Injured, but killed assassin. Must rest now._

_Love you,_

_Aeric_

Dorian smiled, letting out another sighing breath, and much of his anxiety went with it. "Thank the Maker," he whispered. His hands still trembled after being on edge for the past few days, but he felt almost giddy, knowing that Aeric had survived.

A letter from Josephine filled the rest of the page:

_Lord Dorian,_

_We received your letters late last night. The tower messenger working the night shift took the letters to Commander Cullen and myself immediately, but when we arrived at the Great Hall, the assassination attempt was already in progress. The Hall guards were incapacitated with a heavy dose of Crow's Venom. By the time we reached Inquisitor Lavellan, he had already killed the assassin himself._

_The Inquisitor is interrupting me to ensure that I tell you that he fought the assassin dressed only in his smallclothes. He says he thinks you might like that detail. At any rate, the assassin attacked the Inquisitor in his quarters. Luckily, he was still awake, and was able to fend her off, with the battle traveling to the Undercroft. The assassin was highly skilled, as is expected from a member of the Umbra Societatem. Inquisitor Lavellan sustained a few injuries that will certainly keep him from fighting for a few weeks. His right wrist was broken, which makes it difficult to write. I am afraid he will be unable to continue regular correspondence for a few weeks, though I am happy to transcribe anything he wishes to tell you._

_He is resting in bed now. He had lost consciousness after the battle due to loss of blood from deep wounds in his right shoulder and leg. Potions, poultices, and a little healing magic have sped along his recovery, but I will make sure he stays where he is for at least a day or two. The broken wrist will take longer to heal. Master Stitches, from the Chargers, says that, with the healing magic, it should take at least three weeks, perhaps four. Unfortunately, there are no Spirit Healers at Skyhold at the moment. Commander Cullen's new paramour, Lady Megra Trevelyan, assisted in the healing. The Inquisitor is now accusing me of putting in that last detail because I want to gossip. He is, perhaps, not wrong. The Commander and Lady Trevelyan are adorable! I simply cannot stand it._

_Inquisitor Lavellan would like to close the letter by saying that he misses you and hopes that you are safe as well. He says that you can stop worrying now and that he loves you very much._

_Sincerely,_

_Josephine Montilyet_

_P.S. Do not fear, you and the Inquisitor are still first in my heart! The Commander and Lady Trevelyan will have to work hard to replace the two of you as my favorite couple._

Chuckling, Dorian closed the letter, placed it back inside the envelope, and set it on the desk so he could reply to it later.

"Are you better now?"

Dorian turned to look at Relyne, who was standing behind him beside his favorite reading chair. She held a tea set in her hands on a tray. How she managed to carry it across the room without making a sound was a mystery. "Much better," he answered. "Thank you for bullying me. I do need a swift kick in the pants every so often, don't I?"

Relyne smiled, setting the tea set down on a low table beside his reading chair. "You do indeed, Monsieur. But is that a metaphorical kick in the pants? Or literal? I am available to provide either."

Dorian laughed, getting up from the desk and moving to his chair. He accepted a cup from her with a nod of thanks. "Are you certain I pay you enough for such personalized service?"

"For that service, Monsieur?" she replied with a grin. "I may actually pay you."

ooo

_Dearest Amatus,_

_I am so relieved to hear that you are alive. Though, for future reference, whenever I write to you asking if you still live, please address the envelope yourself if at all possible. Even if it's in your illegible left-handed chicken scratch. Call me paranoid if you must, but I like knowing right away that you're not dead. Or at least not-dead enough to hold a quill. I might kill you for the stress Josephine's envelope caused me._

_If Josephine is there with you, tell her to stop acting like I'm some Orlesian dignitary in her letters. Just "Dorian" is fine. And she can call you by your name, and Cullen by his name, and I'm sure even Cullen's new lady friend would not mind being called by her name. And she can be just "Josephine". We're friends, aren't we, Josephine? And as friends, we should dispense with all the silly formalities._

_Anyway, amatus, I have decided that I cannot abide by someone trying to kill the people I care about. Sending assassins after your enemies is simply how they say hello in Tevinter. Sending assassins after the people close to your enemies, however? Just plain rude. Even in Tevinter, we have standards. I would not put it past Anguis to try again, and I will not have you constantly looking over your shoulder for someone to put a dagger in your back. I will let you know once he has been dealt with._

_In the meantime, I hope your healing goes well. It will be difficult these next few weeks without regular letters from you, but I expect a full description of your harrowing, nearly-naked battle when you can write again. Please take care of yourself, and stay cautious for the time being._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: These next two chapters were also meant to be one, but of course it ran long. Thank you for all your kind reviews!

* * *

><p>Written in jagged letters:<p>

_Ma'nehn,_

_Please be careful with Anguis. It is my turn to worry now._

_Love you,_

_Aeric_

Below, written in flowing, precise script:

_Dear Dorian, (I do not like this, by the way. It feels as if I am disrespecting you. In writing!)_

_Inquisitor Aeric (That is as far as I am compromising on this - he is still my superior!) insisted that we write to you immediately after receiving your last letter. He does not know what you are planning in order to deal with Magister Anguis, but he begs you not to act rashly. Angry though you must be, Inquisitor Aeric is alive and safe now. There are guards posted nearby, especially while he recovers, and we are checking his food in case of an attempt at poison. Any immediate danger has passed._

_The Inquisitor says he knows you will do what you think is right, but asks that you please take extra caution. Relyne is your only support there in Tevinter, and she can only do so much. Inquisitor Aeric says that he did not ask you to make the same promise he did, but that he will hold you to it regardless. He says you will know what he means. However, he wishes you luck in whatever it is you are doing to "deal with" Anguis, and requests that you send word as soon as you can that you are alive and well. He also asks that I emphasize the "alive" part._

_To close, he says to tell you, "I love you, ma'nehn, and I am with you in all things."_

_Sincerely,_

_Josephine_

_P.S. I pray for your safety as well, my friend._

ooo

As he reached the end of the letter, Dorian folded it up and tossed it onto the desk. He grabbed the staff from where it was leaning against the wall, and turned toward Relyne. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

Relyne shrugged. "It would appear so, Monsieur. Yet I am still unsure whether this is a good idea."

"Challenging another person to a duel is never a _good_ idea, my dear," Dorian said, gesturing for her to lead the way out the door. "Blood mages especially."

They went down the stairs and out into the streets of Minrathous, the morning sun already boiling the humid air. "It is the blood magic part that troubles me," Relyne said with a shudder as they crossed the boulevard and headed towards the Hall of Magisters. "What if this Anguis tries to control you? He can do that, no?"

Dorian gave her a withering look. "Please, Relyne, give me a little credit. Adralla may have been most famous in Ferelden, but she was a Tevinter scholar in Vyrantium before she was driven out. My father made me memorize her Litany by the time I was twelve. 'It is important to learn of blood magic,' he told me. 'Know what you fight against. Only then can you learn to defend yourself against it.' One of the more valuable lessons he taught me." With a sigh, Dorian shoved the memory back into the recesses of his mind. It was painful to think of that version of his father, the one he had admired and adored so much. "Besides, with all the other magisters present, he can't very well kill people for their blood, even slaves. Though they might all be maleficar in their private lives, on the surface, they must appear to be the picture of honor and civility. There's a limit to what he can do with his own blood. Or mine, I suppose, if he gets a good hit in."

Relyne frowned. "You say that as if it is nothing."

"It is what it is," Dorian said as they passed through the marketplace. There were already hundreds of people milling about the plaza, weaving through the brightly colored stalls. "I do not fear blood magic. Not anymore. There are worse things."

Though he didn't show it outwardly to Relyne, Dorian seethed with a low-burning anger within. After he had learned that Aeric was safe, his anger at Anguis, at what the magister had nearly taken from him, pervaded his very being. He knew that his meeting with the new Reform Committee would be in a few short days, and if he failed here, Anguis would get what he wanted anyway. But the reforms would matter little while Anguis still posed a threat to himself and Aeric. Anguis had to be stopped. Dorian had to be the one to do it.

They climbed the steps to the Hall of Magisters, the way now somewhat familiar to Dorian now that he had had a few hearings there. And as he let himself linger in his anger and dwell on the assassin's attack at Skyhold, each step closer to the Hall was one step more furious, that by the time they reached the large, heavy doors to the Imperial Senate, Dorian was fuming with barely contained rage.

He did not pause, did not hesitate at the doors. Shoving them open, he burst in, unannounced, in the middle of a Senate assembly. Dozens of magisters whipped their heads around to look at him, their mouths agape. Halward Pavus was one of them, and his expression turned from one of alarm to confusion and disappointment. Dorian looked away from him.

Magister Hircus stared wide-eyed at Dorian for a moment before collecting himself. "Altus Pavus! What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"Julius Anguis!" Dorian bellowed, his voice booming across the marble room, echoes reverberating amongst the gargoyles. He glared daggers at the young magister as the ritualistic words fell from his lips with ease. "By your order, an assassin attacked and almost killed Inquisitor Aeric Lavellan six nights ago. I hereby invoke the Rite of Retribution, to exact satisfaction for this attempt against me and mine!"

All heads turned toward Anguis, who paled under the scrutiny. After a moment, he appeared to gather his wits about him and straightened in his chair. "My Lord Magister Hircus," he said with a pompous air. "Surely you are not going to allow this blatantly disrespectful interruption of the Senate assembly?"

Hircus considered Anguis for a moment with an appraising eye. "The law is clear on matters such as these, Magister Anguis. Attempted murder is a serious charge, especially for a magister with your family's stature. As important as Senate proceedings may be, we must hear Altus Pavus' invocation."

Anguis huffed. "This is the most transparent of false charges! Besides, the Rite of Retribution is for slights against magisters and alti, or members of their family. If Altus Pavus wants to invoke the Rite seriously, I'm afraid he will have to grow bigger ears." The Magisterium tittered with suppressed laughter.

A flaring heat burned in Dorian's chest, and he gripped his staff tighter to keep himself from throwing fire at the man right that second.

It had been risky to call on the Rite of Retribution, but it had been the only way Dorian would be able to deal with Anguis immediately, instead of after weeks of bureaucratic nonsense. Magister Hircus rapped his staff on the metal plate. "Altus Pavus? Would you care to respond? Do you claim Lord Inquisitor Aeric Lavellan as kin?"

Despite his anger, butterfly wings of anxiety bit at his insides. He squared his shoulders. "I do, my Lord. Perhaps not in blood, but in bond." His voice sounded more confident than he felt.

The Hall erupted with chatter. Dorian's father sat only two seats to the left of Hircus, and Dorian could not help but catch his eye. The older Pavus shook his head, slowly, with his brow furrowed into a V. Dorian wondered if he had angered him again. Perhaps even a more open mind was still only ajar.

Hircus pounded his staff into the metal plate again. "You certainly know how to cause a stir, Altus." He paused for a moment, then gave a nod. "Very well. I see no reason why the Rite of Retribution cannot apply here."

Anguis stood up. "My Lord, surely you jest! You would allow Altus Pavus to sully the Hall of Magisters with his deviant and shameful behavior? This is outrageous!"

The wizened magister looked at Anguis with an unimpressed expression. "I would think you would be more outraged at the charge of attempted murder, Magister Anguis. Or does that part not concern you?"

"Of course it does," Anguis replied with a thinly veiled snarl. "But I thought the charge so ridiculous that it didn't bear mentioning." He turned to his left. "Magister Tarandrus, surely you cannot agree with Magister Hircus?"

Tarandrus yawned and shrugged. "Whatever Altus Pavus might be doing in his private time with this… Inquisitor of the southern barbarians, I do not wish to think about. It churns the stomach. However, if the two of you want to kill each other, it matters little to me. This assembly was turning dull anyway."

Dorian enjoyed the aghast look on Anguis' face.

Hircus' staff hit metal again. "Then this Senate assembly will recess, to reconvene on the morrow." The old magister nodded to Dorian. "If you remember the way, Altus Pavus, please proceed to the Magisterial Arena."

Dorian gave a sweeping bow and exited the Hall. No more politics between him and Anguis now. Only magic. And Dorian was very good at magic.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: The magic in this chapter is a combination of the spells found in each of the three DA games, and is not limited to the specializations found in DAI.

* * *

><p>"This has gone too far now, Dorian."<p>

Dorian was waiting for Anguis to prepare for their duel, and did a final check of his own armor. It was his favorite set of sturdy battlemage armor, given to him by Aeric as a gift for Dorian's thirty-second nameday. The cloth portions were made from dragon webbing, giving it a burnt orange color that Dorian had disliked at first, until he discovered orange was actually very flattering on him. He touched the cloth fondly before taking a deep breath and turning towards his father. "What are you talking about now, Father?"

Dorian's father still wore the same expression of angry disapproval that Dorian saw on him in the Hall of Magisters. "This charade. Surely you are not fool enough to risk your life over this dalliance of yours."

Dorian's brow furrowed in what was almost certainly a mirror of his father's expression. "Does it look like I'm joking?" he snarled. "Does it look like I consider Aeric a mere 'dalliance'?"

"Anguis is a blood mage, Dorian," the older man said through gritted teeth. "He will augment his spells with it. He will try to control you."

"Not to worry, Father," Dorian said, glaring him in the eye. The old bitterness and anger seeped up from his belly, and this time, Dorian did not want to suppress it. "I know quite well how to defend myself against blood magic. If you remember, it was something I learned from you. From both sides."

His father's face melted into an expression of deep sadness. Dorian turned away from it. He would not feel sorry for him. The man deserved his regrets.

A flare of white magic glowed in the middle of the Arena. It was almost time. "Now, if you'll excuse me," Dorian said, "I have a magister to kill."

"Please, do not do this, my son," his father pleaded, grabbing Dorian's arm. "What could you possibly be trying to accomplish?"

Dorian wrenched his arm away from him. "I am trying to protect someone vital to me. Do watch. Perhaps take a few notes. You might learn something." Without a backwards glance, he went up the steps to the heart of the Arena.

Relyne waited for him by the gate with his staff. "You cannot lose, Monsieur."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Dorian said as he took the staff from her.

"No, I mean that you cannot allow yourself to lose. I am betting on you with that bald magister sitting in the corner." She pointed toward the stands. "Feles, I think his name was. The wager is, perhaps, more than I can afford."

Dorian chuckled. "I shall endeavor not to disappoint you, my friend."

"_Merci_." She smiled and clapped him on the back. "I wish you well, and I am confident you will be the victor. Not merely because of the bet."

He smiled back at her and gave a nod of thanks before stepping through the gate.

The Magisterial Arena was a wide, open area with a clay floor, inlaid with a mosaic of glass stones in a multitude of colors that Dorian could feel under the soles of his boots. Two rows of stands surrounded the Arena, following its oval shape. The magisters each sat in high-backed chairs similar to those in the Hall. Bright red canopies flapped in the breeze above the stands, shielding them from the early summer sun. The Arena was tiny in comparison to the Imperial Stadium, where commoners and magisters alike could watch gladiators, usually slaves, beat each other to a pulp. For entertainment, apparently. The Magisterial Arena, however, was for battles between magisters and select alti themselves, to settle quarrels and disagreements. The fighting was meant to be civilized; the magisters still beat each other to a pulp, but with magic.

A blue light flared in the center of the Arena. Both contenders were ready. Dorian could see Anguis on the other side, dressed in black battle robes that glittered with flashes of silver. The young magister scowled, still obviously upset that the duel had been allowed.

Magister Hircus stood from his seat to the right of an empty throne, reserved for the Archon. "My Lords and Ladies of the Magisterium. Today, we witness a duel of magic between Altus Dorian Pavus and Magister Julius Anguis, in the Rite of Retribution. Altus Pavus charges Magister Anguis for the alleged murder attempt against his kin. The battle is to the death, unless the defeated yields and the victor accepts. Blood magic, of course, is prohibited."

_And will be overlooked when Anguis eventually does use it_, Dorian thought to himself.

"My Lords," Hircus addressed them. "Be ready."

Dorian bent into a practiced stance, his staff held low with his right hand. It had been months since he fought regularly, but as he prepared to face Anguis at last, the anticipation of battle felt both exhilarating and familiar.

A yellow flare went up.

Anguis shot a stream of ice, piercing the summer heat like a blade. The magister was fast. Dorian was faster. He erected a wall of fire between them that consumed the ice, then cast a bright glyph before him. Rays of purplish electricity cascaded from him towards Anguis, and he was knocked backwards by the blast. The hairs on the back of Dorian's head stood on end; he could feel the lightning spell coming from Anguis. When the strike of electricity came, Dorian was ready for it, and redirected the spell with lightning of his own. The electricity from Anguis' spell arched in mid-air, following Dorian's lightning. Anguis cried out as the force of two bolts hit him at once.

As the wall of fire faded, Dorian cast a barrier around himself in the moment it took Anguis to get to his feet. The first attacks were more of a formality, a test of abilities against one another. The two mages circled, far enough out of reach of each other's staff, but only just. Dorian watched him closely for any sign of a blade. While the Litany of Adralla was the only sure defense against mind control, it was only useful if recited before a spell was cast.

"Not bad," Anguis simpered. "I'd heard you were talented. I assumed they meant 'talented for a freak'."

Dorian gave a mirthless chuckle. "Are you trying to insult me? A weak attempt, if so."

"It was a compliment, actually!" The young magister laughed, then flung his staff out, sending a stonefist hurtling at Dorian.

In the split second it took for Dorian to spin out of the way, Anguis had sent another bolt of lightning. This one Dorian couldn't redirect. Though his barrier took most of the damage, the force knocked him off-balance. With a few steps, however, he regained his equilibrium and hit Anguis square in the chest with a misdirection hex. The next few lightning bolts from the magister flew wildly, nearly hitting the other magisters in the stands. With Anguis disoriented, Dorian shot a blast of fire at him that would have burned him completely had Anguis not had a barrier up. Pressing his advantage, Dorian closed some of the distance that had grown between them. He shot two spirit bolts, meant to distract rather than to harm, followed by another barrage of energy. Anguis gave a shout of pain as the electricity coursed through him.

"I'm not just talented, I'm _skilled_," Dorian growled. Unwilling to relent, he cast a horror spell on the young magister. Anguis staggered, holding his head in his hands and screaming. "Lots of practice killing evil magisters, you see. With the Inquisitor. Whom you tried to kill."

Anguis gritted his teeth and glared at Dorian through whatever terrors danced in his vision. "A pity I failed." A small knife appeared in his hand. He slit his palm in one swift motion.

Dorian backed away as quickly as he could, the words of the Litany already on his lips. The problem with the Litany, too, was that he was always preoccupied with the incantation, making casting spells harder. The more complicated spells were almost impossible, as many of them required short incantations themselves. He pulled another barrier around himself, his mouth ever moving as he recited by rote, and shot another round of lightning from his staff.

As Anguis pulled the power of his blood from the wound in his hand, he deflected the lightning easily with his now stronger barrier. He twirled his staff above his head in swift circles before slamming it down into the clay floor, creating a tempest overhead. Dorian cursed in his head even as he repeated the Litany of Adralla again. Try as he might, he could not dodge all the spikes of lightning that stabbed downwards from the clouds of magic above. His barrier broke under all the energy that pulsed through it. Though he wanted to scream from the pain, Dorian made himself keep at the incantation.

"You think you can defend yourself against me?" Anguis had either forgotten about the other magisters spectating or otherwise did not care, because he taunted Dorian in a ringing voice that carried even over the electricity still crackling as it faded from the air. "The second you stop chanting your precious Litany is the second I take control of you. And then you'll be dead."

Stunned from the tempest's lightning, Dorian struggled to dodge as Anguis flung another stonefist spiraling towards him. It slammed into Dorian's right shoulder, sending a shockwave of nerves down his arm that almost made him drop his staff. Gritting his teeth, he paused between repeats of the Litany to hurriedly recite the incantation for a drain life spell. Anguis cried out in surprise as Dorian summoned the magister's life energy back into himself, healing his shoulder and soothing the lingering burns from the lightning. The Litany was back on his lips in the next second, even as he shot a fireball from the end of his staff.

Anguis smirked, his augmented barrier absorbing the fire. "Impressive, that bit of healing. But the Litany only protects you against mind control." The magister darted forward, conjuring rock armor around himself as he got within striking range. Dorian tried to outrun Anguis, but the other man quickly caught up with him. Their staffs met with a loud clatter, and though Dorian could deflect Anguis' paltry attempts at melee combat with ease, he couldn't hope to penetrate the rock armor with his staff's blade. Anguis slashed with his own staff, trying to cut open an access point to Dorian's blood with the blade.

Dorian raised two fingers to his temple and sent out a mind blast. The spirit energy penetrated the magister's barrier and knocked Anguis backward, leaving Dorian room to escape. Yet as Dorian hurried to get out of range, Anguis swept his staff blade out wide, nicking Dorian on his bare left arm.

The blood that oozed from the tiny wound was no more than a trickle. It was enough. Pain burned through Dorian's entire body as his blood boiled in his veins. He fell to his knees, unable to do more than keep the Litany's words flowing from his mouth. His breath came in shallow gasps as his muscles twitched. He could not move. All he could do was think and speak.

A cry came from the stands. Dorian thought it was perhaps his father.

Anguis stood over him, giving a bark of a laugh. "Now you see. You and your father, both of you elitists," he spat. "Thinking yourselves above blood magic. For all your talent, for all your skill, who is on his knees now?"

Dorian's mind worked, trying to shut out Anguis' jeering. _Think, think, think!_ He was effectively paralyzed. But what was blood magic without blood? If he could cut off Anguis' supply somehow… But that only came with death or healing. And you could not heal a blood mage.

"You think the Litany can save you now?" the magister went on. "I have you. And when you're dead, I might send another of the _Umbrae_ to kill your knife-eared lover."

Dorian felt a flare of anger. And with it, a memory came to him, a lesson in his father's voice.

_Only blood magic can heal a blood mage_.

With as much strength as he could muster, Dorian pulled at the blood from the tiny cut in his arm, even as he pulled at the blood dripping from Anguis' hand. He sent the life force from the blood in opposite directions: Anguis' to the wound in his arm, his own to Anguis' hand. The blood healed both wounds. Dorian fell forward, catching himself with his hands as the pain in his veins subsided, the spell broken.

"No!" Anguis shouted, staring at his hand.

In the next second, Dorian brought the blunt end of his staff up across Anguis' chin, then jabbed him hard in the stomach, sending him reeling and gasping. Dorian got to his feet, unleashing another horror spell that made the other man cower in fear, even as he fought to regain his breath.

Dorian stood over Anguis, ready to deliver the final blow.

"I yield," Anguis said in a choked voice. His eyes darted back and forth at the horrors that filled his mind. "I yield!"

Anguis would come after him again, if shown mercy. He would come after Aeric. He would hound them. They would have no peace. Dorian shook his head. "No," he said, surprised at the regret in his voice. "I do not accept." With one smooth stroke, he brought the blade of his staff down hard on Anguis' skull, killing him instantly.

There were no screams of anguish at Julius Anguis' death, nor was there applause. Only a soft gasp and hushed chatter as the magisters whispered amongst themselves. Feeling suddenly exhausted, Dorian forced himself to stand before Magister Hircus and bow. "The debt has been paid, my Lord. I require nothing further. I thank the Magisterium for your time."

Hircus nodded and rapped his staff against the floor. It sounded hollow without the metal plate. "Congratulations, Altus Pavus. You are dismissed."

As the magisters stood and milled around the stands, Dorian took two steps toward the gate before stumbling to his knees, his mana completely depleted. Relyne was at his side in an instant, hauling him to his feet. She let him put his weight on her as they walked.

"You did it, Monsieur," she said with a gentle smile. "I am uncertain what happened at the end. It looked as if you were done for."

Dorian gave a weak chuckle. "I almost was! Maker, that was close."

As they walked through the gate, Dorian saw that someone was waiting in the preparation area. His father stood as they approached.

Letting go of Relyne, Dorian walked toward his father, supporting himself with his staff. "So you did watch."

Halward Pavus nodded. "I did. You handled yourself well."

"I should think so," Dorian said with a rueful smile. "I am, after all, the one still walking and talking. Well, walking after a fashion." He hesitated. "I used some of your old lessons out there. The fight might have gone differently without them."

"I am glad to hear it." If Dorian didn't know any better, he might have thought the upturn of his father's mouth was a smile. "Are you… all right?"

"Nothing a little rest and lyrium won't fix." He gave a nod of thanks. "I appreciate the concern, Father."

"I shall leave you to it, then," his father said. "Be well, Dorian." After a moment of hesitation, he turned and left through the door.

For a moment, Dorian stared at the door, hating the multitude of emotions he felt about his father.

"Are you truly all right, Monsieur?"

Dorian blinked and turned to look at Relyne. "Yes, I think so. If you'd be so kind as to fetch me some lyrium, so I don't have to lean on you all the way back to our suite? I'm eager to return home. It's been a long day."

Relyne smiled. "It is only the early afternoon."

"Even longer, then." He sank onto a bench nearby and sighed. "I could use a drink. Share some wine with me? Celebrate my victory?" He paused, remembering. "Oh, and your winnings from Magister Feles, of course," he added.

"Yes, Monsieur," she said, her smile growing to a grin. "I think today we celebrate."

_Dear Amatus,_

_Here I am, alive and well. Perhaps a bit singed, but otherwise perfectly fine. I killed Anguis in a duel. For your honor, I suppose. It sounds more romantic than it actually was, what with all the burning and blood magic._

_In the end, he asked for mercy. There's no honor in killing a man asking you to spare his life, but I suppose I am not an honorable man. If I thought for one second that he would not have abused that mercy and killed us at the nearest opportunity, I might have given it to him. He deserved his fate, of course, but still. It doesn't feel like a good day's work. But at least you're safe now and so am I, and for that, I am glad. Perhaps I will speak to you about this in more detail when I see you again. Less than four months away now! I can hardly believe it._

_I know you won't be able to respond without Josephine's help, and she's busy enough without us pestering her to write letters every few days. But I already miss hearing from you, in your own words. Please recover as quickly as you can. I am starved of contact with you, and will miss you all the more without regular updates from you. Do ask Josephine to send a letter every so often, though, just so I know you haven't been eaten by an ogre or a horde of bears. And, naturally, I will still be sending you letters as well. I think it would feel strange not writing to you at this point._

_Thinking of you always._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_


	12. Chapter 12

_Dearest Dorian, ma'nehn,_

_I can finally write to you myself! My wrist has been out of its cast for a couple weeks now, but it was still painful and difficult to write. It's feeling much better now; Stitches has put it into a brace to wear during the day for the next few weeks. I have tried using my bow, and while it feels awkward, my aim isn't too bad. I have already gone to the Hinterlands with Blackwall, Sera, and Iron Bull twice, and held my own quite well._

_I heard from Josephine that your first several meetings with the Reform Committee have been going well, all things considered. I know progress has been slow, but I think that is to be expected when you have a country so set in its ways as Tevinter is. At least the magisters are talking, which is more than anyone could have hoped before you arrived there. Please know that I am infinitely proud of what you have accomplished so far. You amaze me._

_Also, I am happy to report that we are almost positive we have found all of the rifts in Ferelden and Orlais. Scout Harding and her crew have been tireless in their search. And now that I am mostly recovered, I can resume the task of closing those rifts. Hopefully Southern Thedas will soon be demon-free. Or, at least, free of demons from the Breach. I hear there are a few rifts found in Nevarra and the Free Marches, but they are few, and can be dealt with at a later date. I would like to visit my clan sometime. It has been a long time since I've been home. Perhaps I can take care of those rifts on my way there. But that is for some day in the future. For now, Ferelden and Orlais need me._

_Finally, I think I may be going mad, now that the year is close to ending. Or madder, perhaps, for I already felt out of my mind waiting for your eventual return. I have to remind myself constantly that there are still well over two months before you arrive. And yet, it has been so long since I've seen you, heard your voice, felt your touch. Knowing that the end of our separation will be soon… It is often all I can think about, and my impatience for it to finally be over makes the time pass all the slower. I am hoping that going out on missions again will help my restlessness. Having something to do besides entertain dignitaries all day will certainly be a welcome distraction._

_I love you, as always. And please send my regards to Relyne as well._

_Love,_

_Aeric_

ooo

It was a mistake to come to the Storm Coast, Aeric realized much too late. His wrist ached in the constant rain, making him fuss with the laces on his brace, though nothing would make it more comfortable. And while he had gotten used to using his bow with the brace on, the constant movement made the aching worse as the day wore on. It was an effort to keep his temper in check.

As he and his companions - Cassandra, Cole, and Iron Bull this time - killed the demons around the rift, hidden amongst craggy rocks and steep hills, Aeric tried to ignore the pain in his wrist. It was more annoying than anything - a constant nagging hurt that refused to go away even after taking a potion. But closing rifts was always satisfying for Aeric, and when he pulled the Fade around the opening in the Veil, he felt himself smile.

"Aeric?" Cole piped up as soon as it was closed. "May I ask you a question?"

Aeric frowned. He usually didn't mind answering Cole's questions, but he wasn't sure if he had the patience for it that day. "You may ask, but I may not answer."

"That's fair." Cole paused to wipe his daggers on the grass. "You're sad often, aren't you?"

Beckoning for the others to walk back with them towards camp, Aeric shrugged. "Yes, I suppose that's true. But I'm surprised this is the first time you've spoken to me directly about it. Mostly you try to cheer me up."

Cole shuffled alongside him, staring at his feet. "Iron Bull and Josephine and the others said not to ask you about it. But you don't mind."

"No," Aeric agreed. "I don't mind talking about it."

"And I didn't know what to do about it," Cole continued. "I want to help, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to take away the hurt. You chose to be sad. Why would you choose to be sad, Aeric?"

Words he had spoken months ago rose to the forefront of his mind. _I already have my happiness, _ma'nehn_. I'll not have any other, even if it feels like sadness for a time._ He gave a small smile at the memory.

Cole picked up on it. "I don't understand," he said, apparently having read Aeric's mind. "How can happiness be sadness?"

"Love is… complicated, Cole," Aeric explained. "When you love someone, and you're together and getting along and able to enjoy each other's company, it can be the happiest experience one can ever have. When that loved one is taken away, however, it can be painful. Even if you know that separation is temporary."

Frowning, Cole kicked a stone as they walked, staring at his feet. "But it doesn't make sense. Sadness is bad. It hurts and consumes. Yet you speak of it as if it were a good thing. You _want_ the sadness."

Aeric tugged at the laces of his brace. "I want it because the alternative is unthinkable. With Dorian, the sadness means we're still together, even if we're physically apart. If I chose something that cut cleaner - something that hurt, but not for as long - we would have broken up, separated completely. I don't want that." He smiled gently at Cole. "The pain of loving is worth it, so long as there's the promise of togetherness in the future."

Behind them, Cassandra gave a breathy sigh that was so unlike her usual grunts of disgust that both Aeric and Cole turned around and stared at her. The Seeker started, perhaps realizing that she had made the noise aloud, and blushed furiously. "I'm… I'm sorry, I did not mean to interrupt… That is, what you said… It was so… _passionate_ and beautiful and…" She looked at them helplessly for a moment before regaining her composure, her mouth forming a thin line across her face. "Hmph. Forget I said anything."

Aeric smiled, but Cole's face was still confused. "Aeric?" the former spirit began again. "Is that why closing the rifts makes you so happy? Because if they're all closed, you can leave?"

"Wait, what?" Before that moment, Iron Bull appeared not to be registering any of the conversation, merely content to be strolling outside in the rain. "You're leaving, boss?"

"This is the first I have heard of it," Cassandra said with a frown.

Aeric held up his hands in a placating gesture. "No, I'm not leaving. Not yet, anyway. I would not abandon you all while you still need my help."

"And afterwards?" Cassandra crossed her arms across her chest and regarded him through narrowed eyes. "We have found all the rifts. It will not take much longer to close them all."

"And afterwards, perhaps I will leave after Dorian's visit. Follow him to Tevinter." He shrugged. "If he'll have me."

Cassandra laughed. "Why wouldn't he take you?" She paused, her face suddenly turning angry. "Why wouldn't he take you?" she repeated in a harsh tone. "What did he do this time?"

"Nothing that I know of," Aeric replied. He knew they were both recalling the letter he received around six weeks ago where Dorian casually mentioned challenging a maleficar magister to a duel. After Aeric had specifically asked him not to do almost specifically that. There had been much cursing in elvhen that day. With Josephine gone to Val Chevin to mediate a dispute, Cassandra had been the one who talked Aeric down so he wouldn't rip his stitches. "Just Dorian being Dorian, stubborn and frustrating man that he is." Aeric huffed, not quite a sigh. "He thinks I'll take all of the responsibilities onto myself."

Iron Bull barked a laugh. "Ha! That _is _a trend with you, boss. That's how you got this job, isn't it?"

"More or less." Aeric smirked. "But I'm happy letting him be in charge if that's what he wants."

"I'll bet that's what he wants," Bull said, waggling his eyebrows.

Though amused, Aeric rolled his eyes.

"If I may ask," Cassandra said, also ignoring Iron Bull, "what do you intend to do if Dorian does not want you to go to Tevinter with him?"

It was a possibility that Aeric had considered before. When he had offered to go with Dorian over a year ago, after the Temple of Mythal, Dorian had seemed so insistent that Aeric stay behind. Did he really think that Aeric would seize control of the reform efforts? He didn't know much about Tevinter, only what he had read in books. He wouldn't have known what Tevinter needed, or how best to go about changing it. No, Dorian had always been the best person to save his homeland. And the way Dorian had spoken back then, it sounded like he intended on reforming the whole country on his own.

To answer Cassandra, Aeric gave a shrug. "I honestly don't know. I might stay here. And I would visit my clan, surely. But I don't think I would stay with them. I don't believe I belong there anymore."

"Ma and Da," Cole murmured. "They worry."

"I'm sure they do."

"Ah, join the social outcasts!" Bull said, clapping Aeric on the back, making him stagger a little. "We make for good company."

Aeric smiled. "None finer, Bull."

Cassandra, however, was frowning. "Would you not follow him anyway? If Dorian insists on being stubborn for no reason, he could not stop you from going of your own volition."

"I could, but I wouldn't."

Bull grunted. "Why not? He cares about you. He tries to hide it from people, but he does. And you care about him. What's the problem?"

Aeric pulled at his brace again, the ache getting worse. "It feels… disrespectful. Even if it was to be with him, I doubt he would appreciate it." Finally getting fed up with the brace, he untied the laces and loosened them. It didn't help. He sighed. "Let's just keep an eye out for bandits or darkspawn or something."

Now that the rifts were all closed and the Inquisition had an established presence there, the Storm Coast was fairly quiet. They walked in relative silence, only broken by the occasional whisper from Cole whenever an animal came into view. When they finally reached the camp, Cassandra pulled Aeric aside. "Inquisitor, a moment."

Letting Bull and Cole pass him, Aeric raised his eyebrows at Cassandra and waited expectantly.

"First, I want to apologize for the conversation earlier," she told him, her eyes piercing as always in her earnest face. "We should not have pried."

Aeric shook his head. "You are all my friends, Cassandra. I'm simply not in the mood to talk about it further."

"Fair enough." She paused, giving him an appraising look. "Second. It sounded like you plan to leave the Inquisition, no matter what Dorian's wishes are."

"As I said, I don't know." He sat down on a log beside his tent, the drizzling rain plastering his hair to his head. "When I came south with my sister, I expected to be in the area only for a few weeks. It's over two years later now. I never wanted power or influence, certainly not to the extent that I have it now." He looked up at Cassandra and smirked. "I suppose I have you to blame."

She smiled. "That you do. But you have done great things with the Inquisition."

"Oh, I don't question that. I only wonder what comes next."

"I understand," she said. "I don't suppose you have chosen a successor, in case you do leave?"

"I assumed it would be you, naturally."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Of course," Aeric said, surprised at her reaction. "You have guided me along most of the way anyway. You're the obvious and most capable choice."

Her eyes widened for a second before softening, a smile with her eyes if not with her mouth. "I… thank you."

"Would you accept?" he asked, his head cocked to one side curiously.

She paused and gave a single nod. "Yes," she said. "I think I would."

"That's good," he told her, giving a little smile. "I can think of no greater Inquisitor."

"I can," she said, returning his smile before turning and walking to her tent.

Flexing his wrist idly in a futile attempt to ease the ache, Aeric stood and entered his own tent. When he noticed he wasn't alone, he started. Cole was sitting on a crate in the corner.

"Cole," Aeric said. "This isn't your tent."

"I know." Cole peered up at him from beneath the wide brim of his hat. They stared at each other for a moment before he continued. "I think… There was something that can help."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Cole said earnestly. "It's Dorian… He regrets leaving you behind."

Aeric smiled. An ache eased a little, though not the one in his wrist. He bent low so he could look Cole in the eyes more easily. "That does help. Thank you."

A slow smile spread across Cole's face, eventually turning into a delighted grin. "I'm glad."

ooo

_Dearest Amatus,_

_Look at you! Legible handwriting and everything! I can't tell you how glad it makes me that you're healing nicely. It has been awful these past several weeks without letters from you - I can't tell you how much it made me miss you all the more. It is hard enough being separated from you. It was positively agonizing being unable to communicate with you at all. Josephine's letters helped, but it's not the same._

_Yes, progress with the Reform Committee has been slow. Magister Lanatae has been particularly unhelpful, stalling at every opportunity. The woman glares at me quite a lot. I don't know what I've done, but I'm certain she hates me. I know I'm blackmailing her a little bit, but really, that's customary in these parts and it isn't as if she doesn't deserve it. Right now we're trying to reach an agreement for how to enforce the anti-blood-magic laws. All very dull. Though, Relyne and I have been taking a page from you lately and doing odd jobs for our allies, in the hopes of bolstering their positions within the Magisterium. Now that we have a foothold in Tevinter, we're finally in a position to climb our way up the ranks._

_I'm glad to hear that the rifts will all soon be closed. You deserve a break for all you've done for Thedas. If you do visit your clan, perhaps I could come with you? The thought of meeting your family is, well, nerve-racking, but I'd like to, if that is all right with you. And I've never met any Dalish elves before you. I'm curious about your clan and your culture, and would love the opportunity to see it firsthand. Would you mind terribly? I admit, I especially like the idea of taking a trip together, just the two of us. Maker, I miss you so much._

_Eleven weeks._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I apologize for the long chapter, but there was no way to break it up, and I wouldn't have wanted to, even if there was.

* * *

><p><em>Amatus,<em>

_I'm afraid I have terrible news, enough to strike fear in the heart of the bravest of souls: My mother is coming over for dinner tomorrow._

_It may seem as if I jest, but I admit that I am genuinely nervous about it. I don't speak of my mother much, do I? That is because we have never been close. She was always distant when I was a child, concerned more about work and appearances than anything else. Octavia Pavus is a praetor - in the South, you might call her a judge or a magistrate, but I believe that your magistrates do not have nearly the same power and prestige as ours do here. Praetura are feared, in some places even more so than magisters, as a praetor can overrule one of the Magisterium in his or her region. So, my mother is essentially the judicial ruler of Qarinus. I don't think I need to tell you how manipulative and shrewd you must be to attain such a position._

_I don't know why she wants to see me, or why now. I've been in Tevinter for nearly a year, and she never bothered to contact me before. Granted, I didn't contact her either, but obviously I didn't want to. When I left over two years ago, I did not have time to explain or say goodbye to my mother. Whether she knows what my father tried to do to me, I do not know. I doubt she would have approved; she had no tolerance for blood magic whatsoever, and was a little more open-minded about my sexuality than Father ever was. I think she knew before I did what I was. It never stopped her from pushing potential wives on me, of course, but at least she never verbally disowned me._

_I'll let you know how it turns out. More than likely, we'll have an awkward meal with few words spoken between us. Besides her scolding me for bad posture and for antagonizing the Magisterium._

_I wish you were here. Your presence would make for a far more complicated situation, but I think I would feel much better. As it is, Relyne is close to throttling me for how on edge I have been these past few days._

_Miss you._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_

ooo

Dorian checked the tablecloth, straightened it, then checked it again. He picked up the napkins that Relyne had laid on the dining table, refolded them, then undid them and folded them again a different way.

"You are making them worse," Relyne said as she brought hot tureens of food through the door into their suite. "Stop fussing."

"I'm not fussing," Dorian protested, rearranging flowers in their vase.

Relyne rolled her eyes, setting down the food, freshly cooked from Clio's kitchens. "If your mother is anything like you have described, she will find something to criticize no matter how many roses are at the front of the vase instead of the back."

Dorian sighed, releasing the flowers. "Well, that's true enough."

"I do not know your mother, but I have met many nobles who sound much like her." Relyne took plates from a cupboard and set them on the table. "It is best to smile, nod, and agree whenever possible. No matter how you may feel about what they say. Then do what you want when they are gone."

"That easy, is it?" Dorian said with a chuckle.

"Parents are parents the world over, Monsieur. When you are a child, they usually know best. When you are an adult, there is no end to how wrong they are. But they still think they know best."

"I never tire of your pearls of wisdom, my dear."

Relyne smiled as she set down two sets of silverware. "It is good that I have so many, then."

Dorian glanced outside at the early evening sunlight, the doors open to let in the ocean breeze to cool the unforgiving heat. His mother would be arriving at any moment. Butterfly wings flapped against his insides as he did one final perusal of the room, making sure there was nothing he forgot. As he checked his robes in the mirror one last time - cream-colored with gold embroidery - there came a soft knock on the door.

Dorian nodded to Relyne, who went to open the door. He took a deep breath.

Octavia Pavus swept into the room, her expression bored and unsmiling, as usual. The dress she wore was simple but elegant, royal blue silk draped in layers too warm for the summer heat. She must have been casting a light ice spell on herself to keep cool. Her black hair was flecked with distinguished gray, pulled back into a sensible bun. As she entered, she paid no mind to Relyne and walked straight to Dorian, her grey eyes already looking him over. "Dori, my sweetheart, it is good to see you," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Dorian resisted the urge to sigh. "It is good to see you as well. But it's 'Dorian', Mother. That is the name you gave me, after all."

"Yes, dear," she said, waving a hand dismissively, "but perhaps I would remember what you prefer to be called if I saw you more often."

"Apologies," Dorian replied, trying to keep most of the sarcasm out of his voice. "But, you know, I have been busy. Saving the world and reforming Tevinter. Things like that."

"No need to be melodramatic, dear. It was merely an observation."

His mother hadn't been in their quarters for more than a minute and already Dorian wanted her out. He opened his mouth to say some retort, but caught Relyne's eye. She gave a little shake of her head, and Dorian took a breath to calm himself. "Won't you sit down, Mother? The food is already prepared."

"Splendid. I'm positively famished."

Dorian held out the chair for his mother and waited for her to sit before taking his own seat to her left. As Relyne prepared the first course, his mother studied the flower arrangement on the table. "Roses and lilies, Dori? Really, this isn't a funeral."

It was if the woman was trying to be difficult. He suddenly remembered why he had not bothered to contact her in the two years and some months since his journey south. He said nothing, and tapped his fingers on the cushion of his chair as he waited. This evening could not go by fast enough.

Relyne arrived with bowls of cold soup, spicy and refreshing, then poured them glasses of chilled wine and water. His mother reached for the wine first, and took a few long sips before trying the soup.

The first two courses went by in silence, with Dorian feeling uncomfortable in every drawn out minute of the meal. The feeling reminded him of his childhood, and all at once, he was seven again, seated in the dining room between his mother and father who glared daggers at one another but never spoke. Almost every meal had gone like this until, one day, Dorian took it upon himself to fill the emptiness with chatter. He had told them about school and magic, books he read and people he met. Anything to fill the silence.

"I ran into Livia the other day."

Dorian started, surprised by the sudden conversation. He swallowed the last bit of salad in his mouth and sat back as Relyne took their plates away. "Livia… Herathinos?"

"Yes, dear," his mother said, patting at her mouth daintily with her napkin. "You do remember her, don't you? The girl you were supposed to marry?"

Dorian scowled. "Of course I remember her."

"Don't make that face, Dori, it will stay that way," she chided. "Anyway, she is in Minrathous for the rest of the week. I arranged with her to meet with you before she leaves."

"You… what?" Dorian gaped at her.

His mother smiled. "Oh, she was so gracious when I met with her. Very understanding. 'People get cold feet all the time', she said."

"I didn't get cold feet," Dorian protested, scowling again.

"Of course you didn't, dear," she said, still smiling, "but she needn't know that."

Relyne came by with the main course, frowning at Dorian from above his mother's shoulder as she set down the food.

Dorian took a sip of wine before answering. "Did you tell her that I'm involved with someone? Surely you know about that." He took a bite of food without looking. As the flavor spread across his tongue, he was suddenly and strongly reminded of Aeric. He looked down at his plate. _Conditi agni_, just like what Aeric had made for him in their quarters over a year ago. He gave a small smile at the memory. How perfectly ironic.

His mother's face had turned hard, a piercing glare that was probably quite intimidating in a courtroom. "Of course I did not tell her of your little affair. It's just a fling, after all."

Dorian swallowed hard around a piece of lamb. "He is not a fling, Mother. Or didn't Father tell you that I killed someone who tried to assassinate him?"

"Julius Anguis, you mean?" His mother made a tutting noise. "Yes, I heard. Awful business. But that's just drawing boundaries, dear. If you let your enemies threaten anyone associated with you, they'll walk all over you."

"Regardless," Dorian said, gritting his teeth. "I am not meeting with Livia. Send her my apologies. Or, better yet, send your own. You're the one who scheduled it."

"No," she said firmly, her voice all hard edges. "You_ will_ meet with have already done that girl a great disservice by jilting her once. I'm sure she doesn't care about whatever you're doing on the side. Everyone does that sort of thing."

Dorian choked on a mouthful of wine. "I'm not doing anything 'on the side'. I am not interested in Livia, nor am I interested in any other woman you shove in front of me. I like _men_."

"So?"

Dorian stared at her. "What do you mean, 'so'?"

His mother set down her fork, her _conditi agni_ barely touched. "I am not your Father. I do not care what you prefer, Dori. I care whether you have the tools you need to succeed. This isn't about pleasure or emotions or any of that nonsense." The piercing glare had returned, eyes narrowed and intense. "This is about power. Prestige. Influence. How do you think you will change Tevinter if you do not have these things?"

"But don't you see?" Dorian said. "This is exactly the sort of thing I want to change about Tevinter!"

She gave a sigh, long and dramatic. "If you insist on flaunting your sexual preferences in front of everyone, won't you at least consider a human man? An altus like yourself, perhaps, or a magister? Not some knife ear, little better than a slave."

For a moment, Dorian's jaw dropped, unable to believe the words coming out of his own mother's mouth. His mother, who had never once spoken a racist word in his life, who flinched at the mildest of curses. The second he recovered from his shock, he threw his fork down on the plate and stood. "Get out," he growled, pointing to the door. "_No one_ speaks about him that way. Do you hear me? No one."

His mother didn't move. "Come now, dear. That is the least of what people will say about this elf with whom you have saddled yourself. Of what they already say. You're hardly discrete."

"Get out!"

"Don't pretend to be offended," she said, her voice cool and calm despite her son's shouting. She remained seated, her hands folded in her lap. "You parade your involvement with this Inquisitor like a flag in front of the Magisterium. It gets you attention, dear, but nothing more. What you're doing gets you gossip. But let's not lie to each other. You're not serious about him. You haven't even spoken his name once since I arrived."

Dorian opened his mouth to protest, but realized she was right, at least on the last point. Why hadn't he said Aeric's name? "I _am_ serious about Aeric," he said, his fists trembling at his sides. "I'm not involved with him to get attention. I don't have some ulterior motive with him. I'm not like you or Father."

"No?" She shrugged. "What of him, then? This Aeric. He is Dalish, is he not? His people hate Tevinters. As they should, given our peoples' history. What could he possibly see in you? You don't think he has his own motives? How grand for him, to watch a high-born Tevinter mage made low by scandal."

Dorian shook his head. Uncontrolled energy crackled in his fists. It was a struggle to keep it contained. "No," he said in a low voice, rumbling with rage and pain. "You know nothing about him. That man loves me." The words formed a lump in Dorian's throat that he had to swallow down. "_Loves_ me! Without exception! Without condition!" He turned away from her then, to hide the emotions burning just beneath his skin. Tears just below the surface. He had never talked about this with anyone. "I didn't even know people really loved like that!" he exclaimed in a choked voice. He turned back to look at his mother, his eyes accusatory. "I certainly never got anything close to it from you, or from Father."

There was a pause. "Then why is he not here, if he loves you so much?" Her voice was strangely gentle.

A shuddering breath rose in Dorian's chest. "I told him not to come. He wanted to, but…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He encouraged me to come here. He knew he would hate being separated, but he wanted me to come here, so I could fulfill my damned dreams and ambitions." Dorian looked up at her, his eyes shining with conviction. "He is the only person who has _ever_ put me first."

"Fine," his mother said, still seated at the table. The hardness in her voice was back, as if it had never been soft. "You want to change Tevinter for the better? This elf of yours wants you to do it? The only way to do so is from within. Do you think the magisters and nobility will listen to you? All you have is your family name, my dear. As far as they are concerned, you are a man who has been given all the opportunities and privilege Tevinter can offer, and threw it all away to be a sexual deviant in the South. Who would listen to you?" She shook her head, disappointment heavy on her face. "No, if you truly want to make real, lasting changes to Tevinter, you should marry well, forge alliances, have children. Prove that magic runs strong in your blood."

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Never."

"That is the _only_ way you will ever see a reformed Tevinter in your lifetime," she said, her voice rising.

"I don't believe that."

"Believe it or don't, but it is the truth." Her voice was firm. "I thought that was why you came here. To make changes, to forge a better future for our country."

"It was!" Dorian protested with a snarl, his anger returning.

"To put an end to the blood magic. To the corruption. Isn't that what you told the Magisterium?"

"Yes. But-"

"Is that not a worthy cause?" she asked, nearly shouting herself now.

"Of course it is, but-"

"Then why would you throw it all away for this Aeric?"

Dorian slammed his hands on the table. "Because I love him!"

There was a second of silence. When Dorian realized what he had just said, he gave a soft gasp, the truth of the words hitting him like a stone fist. There could be nothing truer. Why hadn't he realized before? He swallowed. "I love him," he repeated, his voice low and hoarse, but with just as much intensity. "And I would choose him over you, over Father, over Tevinter. Without question."

His mother's face changed then, all the hard edges falling away, leaving her smiling up at him with sadness in her eyes. "Oh, my dear Dorian," she said gently. "Then why in the Maker's name are you still here?"

"I…" he began, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Wait, what?"

At last, she rose to her feet. She came around the table and placed her hands on his arms, smiling up at him. "If you love him like you do, and he loves you as you say he does, then why are you still here in Tevinter? Go home to him, my darling."

Still he stared at her, not understanding the change that had overtaken her so completely. "You… _want_ me to be with Aeric?"

"Yes, of course, Dorian," she said. "I want you to be happy. After what your idiot of a father almost did to you? After how we both treated you as a child? You deserve every good thing your Aeric can provide."

Dorian frowned. "I… I don't understand. You said…"

Her smile turned sheepish. "I know what I said. I apologize for all of it, especially the awful things I said about your Inquisitor. I merely had to be sure."

"Sure of what?" He pulled his arms away from her, feeling awkward with her open affection. "If this was all a ruse, to what end?"

"I wanted to know how committed you were to Inquisitor… Lavellan, isn't it?" she began. "I heard the rumors, of course, of your involvement with him. And yet I knew you had returned to Tevinter. I assumed it hadn't worked out between you. But then I heard stories from my friends in the Magisterium. About how you admitted to being in a relationship with Inquisitor Lavellan, how you killed his would-be murderer, claiming him as family in the Rite of Retribution, no less." She sighed. "I wanted to know why you weren't with him. Whether, perhaps, it was our fault that you did not stay with him."

"Your fault?" Dorian repeated, his head spinning as he tried to understand. "I thought you disapproved. I thought you wanted me to marry Livia."

"I did, once." His mother leaned against the table and looked down at her hands. "But then I heard about the blood ritual Halward tried to do. I was… horrified." She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, they were filled with tears. "Such a thing is unforgivable," she spat, her voice filled with contempt. "Absolutely unforgivable! But was I any better, pushing you and pushing you to marry women? I ignored who you were, for the family legacy, for my own ambition. To chase away my own personal demons. I had tried to do the same thing your father did, only without blood magic."

"At least you didn't verbally disown me," Dorian muttered. "Or send people to capture me. That's something."

She gave a bitter laugh. "The bare minimum of parental duties: not attacking my child."

There was silence as he studied her. Dorian had always thought of his mother as a formidable woman, and she was, though perhaps only on the surface. As he looked at her now, at the tired, aging woman filled with regret, he wondered if this was what she had been hiding away from him all these years. "I'm still not sure I understand what any of that has to do with you coming here and acting the bigot."

"When your father drove you away, I was so angry," his mother said in a quiet voice, still staring at her hands. "At him. At myself. And when I heard you might have found happiness with the Inquisitor, I was glad. Relieved. But then you returned, and involved yourself with the Magisterium again." She shook her head. "We pushed you so hard as a child, to pursue lofty ambitions that we could not attain ourselves. I thought, perhaps, that it was that ambition that drove you from your Aeric."

"Nothing drove me away from anyone," Dorian grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "And why the ruse? Why not - oh, I don't know - ask me?"

She gave a rueful chuckle that was filled with little mirth. "Old habits die hard, my dear. I am a_ praetor_, and_ praetura_ are habitual liars." Dabbing at her eyes with a napkin from the table, she looked up at him. "I will not ask you to forgive me for how I raised you. I do not think myself deserving of it. But I would like to try to make amends, if I may."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he said, guarded, skeptical. "And how might you do that, Mother?"

"Well, the food may have gone cold," she said, giving an uncertain smile, "but _conditi agni_ has a fine flavor no matter the temperature. If we may finish our meal, I would like to hear more about Inquisitor Lavellan."

He stared at her for a moment, eyes wide with wondering, before he chuckled. "I feel as if I've walked into the Fade, and some demon is doing a very poor imitation of my mother."

"I assure you, I am quite real," she said, stepping around the table to sit back in her seat.

Dorian gave an amused grunt. "Hmph, that's what a demon would say." Nevertheless, he sat down in his chair beside her.

"So," she said as she picked up her fork, "tell me about Aeric."

So Dorian told her, beginning with the _conditi agni_ that Aeric had cooked for him so long ago. He talked about how they met in Redcliffe, and about the destruction of Haven. About Aeric's quiet nature and love of history. As Dorian spoke, the heartstrings pulled and tightened, making him miss Aeric even more. But as Dorian was just about to tell his mother about the Fade, he realized they were no longer eating and the hour was getting late. It was the first meal he could ever remember sharing with her where they truly talked.

His mother reached out and squeezed his hand. "Aeric sounds like an extraordinary man. I can see why you are so enamored of him."

Dorian smiled, then had a thought. "Would you… like to see a picture?"

"Of course."

He stood from the table and walked to the far side of the room, to the desk by the balcony doors. He retrieved one of the sketches he had made before he left Skyhold, the one where Aeric was smiling. His mother crossed the room as well and took the sketch from him. "He's handsome," she said.

"He is." Dorian smiled, though his heart ached.

"You _are_ still together, then?"

He nodded. "We write letters to each other. It's been… difficult." He sighed wistfully. "We agreed I would visit a year from when I left. We have two months left to go."

"Dorian," she said, her voice soft but chiding. She handed back the sketch. "Go now."

"I can't go now, Mother," Dorian scoffed, but suddenly he wasn't so sure. "I have Reform meetings to attend."

"So?" she challenged. "You would not choose Aeric over those meetings?" Dorian opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head, cutting him off. "If it will make you feel better, I am… friends with Magister Lanatae. I will make certain that the meetings are postponed."

"You're friends with that old crone?" Dorian said, his voice dripping with distaste.

"That 'old crone' is only five years my senior, dear." His mother's voice was scolding, but she was still smiling. "And don't be rude. She will be doing you a favor."

"Why would she? I'm fairly certain she hates me."

His mother laughed. "She does. But she likes me very much."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at her but did not pursue the subject. Instead, he glanced down at the sketch in his hands, his heart pounding.

"So you'll go now?"

Dorian looked up from the picture and nodded. "Yes," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Immediately. Tomorrow, if I can. As soon as I can find a ship."

"Good. Then I will take my leave so you can pack." She looked up at Dorian, her eyes searching his face. "Dorian?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"I take it you haven't told him yet? That you love him?"

Dorian felt his cheeks warm at the word he had been avoiding for almost two years. He shook his head.

"Please do." She got up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Be well, my son. And please bring Inquisitor Lavellan to Qarinus sometime. I would like to meet him."

"I will," Dorian said with a smile. "Thank you, Mother."

He watched as Relyne escorted his mother out of the suite. When Relyne returned, Dorian was still grinning, his heart still pounding in his chest. "Help me pack, would you? We're going back to Skyhold."

Relyne beamed at him. She seemed almost proud. "Maker's breath," she said. "It is about time."

ooo

_My dearest Amatus,_

_The dinner with my mother went surprisingly well. Our relationship is different now, friendlier. I may actually like to keep in touch with her going forward. It's a complicated matter that I will discuss with you when I see you, if you remind me. But the dinner was… enlightening. And confusing. I did mention my mother is a manipulative woman, yes? I'm sorry, I know this makes no sense, but I feel I am still processing it all._

_I know this is sudden, but I have decided to take some of my mother's advice and do a bit of traveling. There are some very important people I need to see, and it's impossible to do so if I stay in Minrathous. Their leader is especially crucial. I have some information I must discuss with him, and unfortunately it cannot wait. He's prone to getting himself almost killed, you see, so it is vital that I pass on this information as quickly as possible. I may be gone for a few weeks, so please don't worry if you don't hear from me. I promise to be in contact very soon._

_I miss you. Not long now._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_


	14. Chapter 14

_Dear Josephine,_

_Would you mind doing me a favor? Keep Aeric's schedule free for the first week of Matrinalis? Apologies, that's August for you Southerners. He can still be doing Inquisition things, just nothing too important or pressing. And above all, keep him at Skyhold. No missions. Unless lives are in mortal danger, of course. Then it can't be helped, I suppose. But if at all possible, keep him available. And if his light schedule just so happens to bleed into the second week, there might be something in it for you._

_And I know you're the very soul of discretion, but please don't mention any of this to him._

_Sincerely,_

_Dorian_

_P.S. Yes, yes, I know it's quite obvious what I'm planning. Stop squealing. I know you're doing it._

ooo

A glittering city in white and gold rose from the horizon. Dorian stood at the bow of the ship, breathing in the fresh sea air in deep draws as they sailed ever closer to Val Royeaux. The long wait was almost over. He would see Aeric tomorrow. _Tomorrow_. The thought was mind-boggling.

"Excited?" Relyne said, coming up behind him and leaning on the railing.

Dorian laughed. If only she knew. His spine was absolutely tingling with excitement. "I've never been so happy to see Orlais in my entire life!" he shouted over the crash of waves against the ship. "And I hate Orlais!" He chuckled. "I mean no offense, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Relyne replied with a smile. "I hate Orlais as well. Why do you think I left so willingly? I much prefer Ferelden."

"My word, you're a terrible Orlesian!"

"That I am," she agreed, laughing.

It didn't take long for the ship to dock in Val Royeaux's busy port, the late morning sun making the city and its surrounding water shine. To Dorian, however, the process seemed to take forever, and he complained loudly to each of the crew when they would not let him disembark immediately. The crew, who had put up with Dorian's impatient complaints and seasick muttering for two weeks, looked just about ready to throw him overboard. That they had not tried to do so already was admirable, Dorian thought. Or perhaps Relyne had merely paid them extra to tolerate him. Probably the latter.

As soon as his feet touched the dock, Dorian went in search of horses, Relyne trailing behind with the majority of their bags. "Monsieur!" she called after him. "_You_ wait here with the luggage, and _I _will get the horses!" He heard her give an exasperated sigh.

But he could not stop, could not wait. Now that he finally understood, finally recognized his feelings for what they were, that he loved Aeric _- loved_ him!- the words felt like a flood, held only by a broken dam. They wanted to burst forth from him, and Dorian wasn't sure he could contain the force of it.

When at last the two of them left Val Royeaux, it took some effort for Dorian to keep their journey at a reasonable pace, so as not to overtax the horses. They made good time, however, and it wasn't long before the scenery began to look familiar, the ubiquitous fennecs and nugs darting away from their horses as they rode past.

By the time sunset came and they had to stop to make camp, they were already well within the Frostback Mountains. Dorian knew this path; Aeric had taken them through it on countless occasions whenever they went on missions within Orlais' borders. Skyhold was just beyond the horizon. A few hours' travel, and they would be there. If the path wasn't so craggy and steep, dangerous in the dark, he would have insisted on just traveling through the evening.

Though it was well into summer, the evening air was cold enough to make Dorian shiver, having grown accustomed to the humid heat of Tevinter. He sat across the fire from Relyne and wrapped a cloak around himself, watching her cook.

Relyne glanced up at him and smiled. "You aren't going to read?"

"No," Dorian replied with a chuckle. "I don't think I'm of a mind to concentrate."

"You will not be able to sleep at this rate," she observed.

Dorian threw a few more sticks into the fire. "Sleep? Oh, I fully expect to lie awake all night in mad anticipation. Then tire of waiting and leave at first light. Consider this fair warning, Relyne."

"You consider this fair warning, Monsieur," Relyne said, stirring a pot of what was probably stew. "If you don't allow me at least six hours of rest, we will both be sorry."

"Fine," he replied with a grin. "But expect a somewhat burnt breakfast when you wake. I'm not about to waste any time."

She gave a resigned sigh and went back to her stew.

It had been a long time since Dorian had done any camping, and now found it strangely nostalgic. The last time he had slept in a tent was when he left Skyhold, of course. Returning was a much different feeling from leaving. He recalled that night, sleeping alone in a tent for the first time in over a year, sharing a camp with a woman he barely knew. The only reason he slept that night was because he hadn't slept the night before. _Much better now_, Dorian thought as he stared into the fire. Relyne was a good friend now, no longer a stranger. And now he was headed towards Aeric, not away.

"Do you know what you will say to him?"

Dorian looked up from the fire, afterimages burning in his vision as he met Relyne's eyes. Though he tried to think of something witty to say, nothing came to mind, his head still buzzing with anticipation. He shook his head. "Not quite. I hope it's good, whatever it is. We've been a… well, 'couple' I guess you would call us, for close to two years now."

Relyne made an exasperated noise. "Maker's mercy, of course you would call the two of you a couple! You have had nearly a year to figure this out without him, and you are still swallowing your words!" Her hands gestured animatedly. "You are a couple. He is your boyfriend. Or partner or lover. You are in love. Ugh, how he puts up with you is beyond me!"

"I wonder the same myself, sometimes," Dorian said with a sad smile.

Her face fell into an apologetic expression. "I did not mean… You are only frustrating. You are fine otherwise."

He chuckled lightly. "I suppose that's a compliment." There was a pause. He went back to staring at the fire. "In love, huh? I suppose I am."

Relyne nudged his arm with a bowl of stew and pressed it into his hands. "I was surprised you did not know," she said softly. "It seemed obvious. I did not think you so dense, Monsieur." She gave him a crooked smile.

"Not most of the time," Dorian said. "Only when it comes to him."

"Ah," Relyne said with a little sigh. "Love is like that."

"So it is." Dorian said, thinking of Aeric and missing him as much as he ever had. _Soon, soon…_

ooo

Dorian and Relyne packed up their camp just as the sun broke past the horizon. As expected, Dorian had been unable to sleep, his mind racing. How much had Aeric changed? How much had he himself changed? What if Aeric had been called away from Skyhold on an emergency? What if he didn't want to do a long distance relationship anymore? If that were the case, could Dorian really give up Tevinter's future and a year's worth of work to be with Aeric?

Yet the path grew even more familiar and then Skyhold appeared in full, the Inquisition flags flying high above each tower. And as he gazed at the castle that he had once called home for just over a year of his life - the happiest year he could ever remember, despite the mayhem - an answer came to that last question, without doubt or fear along with it. Yes. Anything for Aeric. Anything to make him happy.

As they approached the bridge, Dorian's heart began pounding in his ears, his stomach turning flips within him. He pulled on the reins of his horse just as he was about to start across.

"Something wrong, Monsieur?" Relyne asked, pulling her horse alongside him.

"This is really it," Dorian said, gripping his reins until his knuckles paled. "I'm really going to see him. _Kaffas,_ why am I so nervous?"

Relyne smiled. "Go on, Dorian. Your Aeric waits for you."

Dorian took a few deep breaths and nodded. With a kick, he took his horse across the bridge at a gallop, hoping the speed would chase away his nerves. He only slowed as he reached the gate, and drew to a stop in the middle of the courtyard.

As he dismounted and looked around, he saw that little had changed in Skyhold. There had been many repairs, but there were still the same little stalls selling wares just inside the gates. Tents for wounded soldiers dotted the lower level, though there appeared to be fewer occupying them, now that the wars across Southern Thedas had ended. Relyne arrived behind him, dismounting from her horse. "I can take the horses to the stables, Monsieur. Do you need anything from the bags?"

"Yes." He did not turn to look at her. Instead he continued scanning the grounds for a familiar face. A particular familiar face. "If you could retrieve the bag with my books and…" He trailed off, staring towards the entrance to the Great Hall. "Oh Maker," he breathed in a tremulous whisper, "there he is."

Aeric was exiting the Great Hall, a scowl on his face as he trailed behind Josephine, who was chattering away, clipboard held in one hand and quill in the other. In the bright morning sunlight, Aeric looked resplendent, no longer wearing those hideous beige pajamas he called a uniform, but rather a similar outfit in brown and green with elven embossing along the leather. They went down the steps together before pausing at the open landing. As Aeric gave the courtyard a glance, his eyes passed over Dorian once before he did a double-take and looked again. Dorian grinned as Aeric's brow furrowed in confusion and his mouth moved in an inaudible whisper. _Dorian?_

Dorian nodded, taking a shaking breath as he gave a little wave. _I will not run to him like an Antivan chambermaid,_ he told himself stubbornly. _I will not run to him like an Antivan chambermaid…_

A broad grin spread across Aeric's face. "_Ma'nehn!_" he shouted and leapt, apparently having none of Dorian's reservations. Josephine shrieked and Dorian gasped as Aeric bounded off the steps below, landing at the lower level and rolling to soften his fall. When he got to his feet, he ran to Dorian, nearly bowling him over as Aeric all but tackled him in a tight embrace.

"_Festis bei umo canavarum!_" Dorian cursed, though he laughed, his heart swelling in his chest with the feel of Aeric in his arms again. "I didn't come all this way just to watch you break your fool ne- Mmm…"

He was interrupted by a kiss, hard and needy and - Maker, it had been so long. Dorian tilted his head, deepening the kiss, one hand tangling in Aeric's hair, the other finding the smooth curve of his hip. Dorian felt Aeric's hands gently massaging their way down his back. Tingling warmth spread throughout the mage's body, leaving him positively buzzing with almost giddy excitement.

Their lips parted a hairsbreadth, breathless. They rested their foreheads together, noses touching. "Sorry," Aeric murmured.

"For what?"

Aeric smiled. "People are staring."

"I hadn't even noticed," Dorian whispered with a chuckle. How strange. He really hadn't. "It's been too long to worry about that nonsense." He punctuated his point with another kiss, slower, less desperate but no less wanting, lips meeting again and again in exquisite caresses. It was rather like a hello. Aeric had wanted nothing but hellos upon Dorian's return. If they were all like this, he was happy to comply.

As the kiss at last ended, Dorian gave a long sigh. "Though, if we keep this up, people will _really_ start staring."

"Is that a promise?" Aeric's smile turned crooked and mischievous.

Dorian laughed. "Oh, I've missed you!" Not wanting to tempt himself further - not until they found some privacy, at least - he drew back so there was more than a mere inch of space between them. "Let me look at you." He took Aeric's face in a little at a time: his soft, dark hair, shorter now than before; his olive _vallaslin_ crisscrossing his temple and trailing down the sides of his face; his lapis-colored eyes, a deeper blue than Dorian had ever seen; the long scar down his right cheek; the little line of green tattoo on his lower lip that made Dorian want to kiss him again. Every beautiful detail, still right where he left them.

Aeric was studying Dorian's face as well, his eyes soft and bright. He reached up and touched Dorian's hair, raking his fingers slowly down around the ears. "I can't believe you're really here," he said softly, his voice full of awe. "I just… I can't believe it. What are you even doing here? You're over six weeks early!"

"I could not think of a single reason to wait any longer, _amatus_," Dorian said with a smile. _Amatus_. Oh, it was good to say the word aloud again. "I have many excellent qualities. Patience, however, is not one of them."

"Good," Aeric said, still smiling up at him. Dorian couldn't remember ever seeing him smile for so long before. "To the Void with patience, I say, if it means I get you sooner."

Now that Dorian was there, with Aeric finally standing before him, it was difficult to keep the words from spilling out by accident, casually and without thought. _I love you_, Dorian thought fiercely. _Maker's breath, I love you so much_. But after all this time, Aeric deserved so much more than the words haphazardly spoken. Instead, Dorian planted a short kiss on Aeric's lips, drawing away before their little display turned into a full spectacle.

Someone nearby cleared her throat, and Dorian looked up to see Josephine standing nearby, tears in her eyes as Relyne patted her on the back awkwardly. "Josephine!" Dorian greeted. "My dear accomplice! How are you?"

Josephine gave a watery laugh as Aeric adopted a mocking frown. "So you were in on this, were you, Josephine?" he said, not quite able to hide the amusement in his voice.

"I only did as Lord Dorian asked," she protested.

Dorian stepped forward and gave her half a hug, his right hand linked with Aeric's left, each of them having wordlessly decided not to let go of one another. "Just 'Dorian', thank you. And it's good to see you."

She wiped at her eyes and nodded. "I am so sorry to interrupt, but I thought it best to get any last official business out of the way." She held up her clipboard and quill. "Inquisitor, if you'd be so kind as to sign for the trade agreement with Marquis du Feu, I will bother you no longer."

As Aeric reached out to sign the document, Dorian noticed the brace on his lover's wrist. He frowned. Shouldn't that be gone by now?

Josephine took back the quill and grinned. "Now, go on, you two. I'm sure there are a great many things you'd rather be doing than talking to us."

"Thank you, Josephine," Aeric said, already tugging at Dorian's arm. "Good to see you again, Relyne."

"Do not overstrain yourselves, Monsieurs," Relyne called after them with a laugh.

Dorian wrinkled his nose at her. "We'll strain ourselves just the right amount, I think," he told her as Aeric pulled him away.

Instead of taking Dorian up the usual steps to the upper level of the courtyard, Aeric led him to a set of stairs just to the right of one of the merchant stalls. "Where are you taking me?" Dorian asked, chuckling.

"Shortcut," Aeric answered with a grin. They cut through the Skyhold kitchens and ended up in a large open hall, empty save for a few paintings covered in dust and cobwebs.

Normally, Dorian would have been curious, or at least distracted by the prospect of reacquainting himself with Aeric in the very immediate future. But his eyes kept wandering to Aeric's wrist, and he knew himself too well to let it go unmentioned. He would worry. "_Amatus_, wait."

Aeric slowed and glanced over his shoulder. "Hmm? Something the matter?"

Dorian pulled him to a stop in the middle of the hall. "I was trying to ignore it, but I have to know. Why is your wrist still in the brace? Shouldn't it be healed by now?"

There was a pause. "Please, don't worry about it right now," Aeric said, the smile slipping from his face. "It's not that serious."

"Aeric…"

The elf sighed, then turned all the way around to face him. "You won't be able to relax, will you? Until I tell you?"

"No," Dorian agreed. "I really won't." Though Aeric appeared calm and unconcerned about it, Dorian couldn't help leaping to the worst conclusions in the back of his mind.

Aeric, as always, went right to the point. "The break was… bad, _ma'nehn_. And the Undercroft, where the assassin and I fought, isn't exactly clean. So the wound got infected."

Dorian opened his mouth to speak, his mind still racing, but Aeric shook his head and stopped Dorian before he had the chance to speak. "I'm _fine,_ Dorian. They gave me some medicine, and a little over a week ago, I had surgery-"

"Surgery!" Dorian exclaimed, his voice rising an octave. The practice had always seemed barbaric to him, coming from a land where spirit healers were plentiful for the upper class.

Aeric took Dorian's free hand in his braced one. "I'm all right," he insisted before continuing. "I had surgery to clean out the infection over a week ago, and one of the mages did some healing on it. I'm to see a spirit healer in Val Royeaux in a few weeks." He gave both of Dorian's hands a squeeze. "You see? Still works. It doesn't even hurt right now."

Dorian pulled the injured hand up and held it against his face. "I am so sorry," he said, pressing a kiss onto the bound wrist. "If I hadn't insulted Anguis…"

"Stop that," Aeric said, giving the tip of Dorian's mustache an affectionate stroke with the pad of his thumb. "It's not your fault, so don't beat yourself up over it. I swear to you that I'm fine."

Dorian let out a sigh. "Yes, all right," he said, giving a little smile. "So long as you swear."

Aeric raised himself on his tiptoes to give Dorian a sound kiss on the lips. Dorian began to relax. "Now," Aeric said when he drew away. "Can we please go up to our quarters so I can start taking your clothes off? I've been dreaming about this for _months_."

Dorian chuckled, the thrill of being together again returning. "Likewise, _amatus_. Lead the way."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: So, this chapter contains smut. Which is great! But if smut is not your thing for whatever reason, there is no actual plot in this chapter, so you can skip it if you choose. Relationship/character stuff, but no plot.

* * *

><p>The second the door to their quarters closed, Dorian and Aeric fell upon each other in a kiss unmatched by those they shared in the courtyard. Their mouths crashed into each other, tongues insistent and wanting, each movement of their lips eliciting throaty moans and sighs from them both. The knowledge that they were finally, blessedly alone together was intoxicating and surreal, and Dorian was almost tempted to pinch himself to make sure it wasn't some vivid dream.<p>

Aeric took care of that temptation for him. The elf buried his face beneath the high collar of Dorian's shirt, nipping down his neck. Dorian gasped at the sudden rush of sensation, struggling to keep upright as they stumbled together down the hallway toward the stairs. As Aeric licked and kissed his way to Dorian's collarbone, Dorian caught Aeric's earlobe with his lips and grazed it with his teeth. Aeric groaned, long and low, a sound that quickened Dorian's heart and warmed him beneath his belly.

Deft hands working over Dorian's clothes, Aeric gave a grunt of frustration. "Too… many… fucking… straps!" he said between kisses.

Dorian laughed, delighted to hear Aeric curse. He didn't do it often. "Such language!"

Grinning, Aeric shut him up with another kiss, capturing his mouth with a little bite on Dorian's lower lip. He apparently remembered well how Dorian's clothing worked, because half of it was off him already by the time they reached the stairs.

Aeric's clothing was much easier. Dorian pulled at the clasps, and they came undone, revealing a wealth of smooth bronze skin that made his breath catch in his throat. Sweet Maker - no drawing, no desperate imagining could compare to the reality of Aeric before him. Dorian's hands darted beneath Aeric's open shirt, circling around his slender waist, up his back, anything he could reach.

His hands found the long, thin scar on Aeric's stomach that Dorian himself had healed. The wound he healed as Aeric first said "I love you". _I love you too_, he thought as he ran his fingertips along the scar. _I should have said it then._

Aeric shrugged off his shirt before going back to Dorian's clothing. "Not fair," he grunted with a laugh. As if in revenge for Dorian's complicated clothing, he rocked his hips into Dorian's, the top of his thigh sliding across the bulge in Dorian's trousers. Dorian gave a shuddering moan, nearly tripping as they reached the door at the top of the first set of stairs. "_Amatus_…"

At last, Aeric was triumphant in pulling off the maze of belts and straps and arm coverings, breaking off their kissing to pull Dorian's shirt over his head. Aeric's hands and mouth were on him then, following the curves of his muscles. Aeric was reverent in his touch; even in the force of his passion, he held Dorian with such tenderness that Dorian's heart felt full to bursting.

Pants were simpler. Aeric loosened the clasps at Dorian's waistband even as Dorian undid the ties on Aeric's. Dorian slipped a hand beneath the loosened trousers, his breath husky from want as he cupped Aeric's firm, round ass. They followed each other up the last few stairs in a haphazard dance, their feet moving around each other without thought, each seeking to end a year's worth of longing with hands and mouths and bated breaths.

Dorian grinned as he pushed Aeric onto the bed, a different one than when he'd last been there. Bigger, with bedposts. Bending to remove Aeric's boots, Dorian pressed nibbling kisses against the erection held within Aeric's trousers. The elf threw his head back with a low groan. "Oh, _ma'nehn_…"

How he loved hearing the endearment from Aeric's own mouth! As soon as Dorian wrestled Aeric's boots off, next went the pants, until his _amatus_ was blessedly naked before him. "Sweet Maker," Dorian said, his breath catching in his chest. "You are so glorious." _I love you, I love you…_

Aeric gave a little smile, bittersweet, the way reunions are. "No more than you."

"Of course not," Dorian laughed. "No one's more glorious than I."

Aeric laughed as well, pulling the mage up by the arm onto the bed beside him. He kissed Dorian again and again. "Gods, I've missed you so much…" he murmured, his lips enticingly close to Dorian's ear. Dorian shivered. Hands sliding beneath Dorian's waistband, Aeric cupped and pressed against his erection until Dorian's breath turned ragged once more. In one smooth movement, he lifted Dorian's hips and pushed his trousers down to his knees. Aeric rose to kneel at Dorian's feet, unbelting his boots and tossing them aside before pulling the last of his clothing from him. "I want to taste you," the elf said, bending and licking a path up from Dorian's balls to the head of his cock.

"Yes…" Dorian hissed, shuddering. "Oh, Aeric, yes…"

Aeric's mouth was on him then, warm and wet and perfect. Dorian clenched his hands in the sheets as Aeric began to move, the sight of his lover's head bobbing over him almost unraveling him completely. Unbidden groans escaped from Dorian's mouth, and Aeric answered with humming moans of his own, vibrations that rippled through Dorian like waves.

A little noise from the head of the bed made Dorian open eyes he could not remember closing. As Aeric sucked at him, the elf had reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of oil. For a second, Aeric's eyes asked a silent question and Dorian gave a single nod, smiling through the haze of lust that had almost overwhelmed him. After watching Aeric take a moment to warm the oil in his hands, Dorian felt Aeric massaging him with his fingertips until one slid slowly inside. Dorian sucked in a sharp breath, tossing his head and arching his back as Aeric moved one finger, then two, and finally three within him. Aeric took his time, stretching and massaging, and the pure ecstasy of it was almost more than Dorian could handle_. I love you, I love you… _With both Aeric's mouth and fingers moving in unison, it was almost too much. Too much after too long with nothing but imagination and a picture to sustain him. Yet still, not enough. Never enough.

But Dorian didn't want it to be all about him. He didn't want merely to feel Aeric, but to_ be_ with wanted to give as much as take, for them to find pleasure in each other in equal measure. It took all of Dorian's will to gather his senses enough to speak. "_Amatus_," he moaned. "Please, I need… I need you inside me."

As Aeric withdrew from him, Dorian felt a momentary sense of loss, but smiled as the elf stood to lean over him and give him a kiss. "You sure?" he asked. "I was quite enjoying myself."

Dorian pulled Aeric down onto the bed beside him, kissing him deeply, their tongues meeting in long caresses. When their lips parted, Dorian peppered Aeric with little kisses, trailing across his cheek and up to his ear. "Positive," Dorian said in a rumbling whisper. He drew his tongue up from the base of Aeric's ear to the pointed tip, nipping as he went back down it. Aeric gave a shuddering moan. "I need you with me," Dorian told him.

"_Ma nuven'in, ma'nehn,_" Aeric breathed huskily under Dorian's ministrations.

Dorian rolled him onto his back, continuing to kiss and lick and bite his way down Aeric's neck. "I love it when you talk in elvish." Dorian's hands ran down the length of his body until he found Aeric's cock, his erection flagging in the lack of attention. Well, that wouldn't do. He reached for the bottle of oil and poured some out onto his hands. Warming the oil instantly with the tiniest burst of magic, he massaged it into Aeric's skin, from the base to the head and back down again.

"Dorian…" Aeric's breath had turned ragged, eyes closed, lips parted. Oh, but he was beautiful. _I love you, I love you…_ Dorian returned his mouth to Aeric's lips, finding that olive line of _vallaslin_ he adored so much, catching it with a little tug. As they kissed, Dorian worked on his _amatus_, his beloved, until Aeric was fully erect and glistening with oil in the sunlight.

"_Ar isalan ma,_ Dorian…" he groaned, his voice needy, pleading. Dorian didn't understand the words, but nonetheless knew what his lover wanted.

Rising to his knees, Dorian shifted Aeric on the bed. The elf looked up at him with such a naked expression of love and longing that it took Dorian's breath away. He bent to kiss Aeric again as he straddled him, before lowering himself and guiding Aeric inside.

Going slowly to allow his body to adjust, Dorian lowered himself inch by marvelous inch until he was fully seated. Oh, it had been so long since he had been so deliciously filled. Their breaths matched each other, released in ragged huffs, overloaded with the pulsing warmth of love and lust. As Dorian began to move, leaning forward to get a better angle, Aeric groaned loudly, with abandon. "_Ma'nehn_… oh, you feel incredible…"

Dorian could not answer beyond a loud moan of his own, pleasure shooting through him as Aeric's cock brushed against his prostate. Aeric reached between them with his left hand to take hold of Dorian's erection, but Dorian shook his head. "No, no hands," he panted. "Had… had enough of hands. A… a year's worth too many."

Aeric gave a little smile and nodded. Instead, he pulled Dorian closer, bringing his legs up behind him, trapping Dorian's erection between their bodies, made slippery with sweat. Yes, this was what Dorian wanted, their bodies moving in tandem, almost every inch of each other touching or within reach. Suspended as he was on his elbows over Aeric, he could watch every blissful expression on the elf's gorgeous face. Expressions he was sure were mirrored on his own. _I love you, I love you…_

"_Ma'arlath… ma'arlath_…" Aeric moaned, echoing Dorian's thoughts.

"_Amatus…_" Dorian replied in a fierce whisper._ My Aeric…_

The wave of pleasure within him swelled and swelled until it crested, crashing over him all at once. The force of his orgasm hit him hard, and he cried out wordlessly, the sound of it echoing in the rafters. His body tightened around Aeric, and his _amatus _followed close behind, Dorian's name on his lips, hands grasping the sheets and trembling as he came.

It took a few moments for Dorian to regain more than the simplest awareness of their breaths and bodies. Aeric smiled up at him with a lazy expression, and Dorian bent to kiss him as they slipped from each other. He rose, feeling suddenly heavy, but went to the bath, wet a cloth, and returned. As he cleaned Aeric's chest, he pressed soft kisses into his skin with each swipe of the cloth. After they had both been cleaned up, Aeric opened his arms wide, inviting him in without a word. Dorian tossed the cloth over his shoulder before collapsing in Aeric's arms.

"Hello," Aeric said, kissing Dorian's temple.

Dorian grinned, shifting closer. "Hello."

They tangled their legs together, drinking in each other's touch. Dorian gave a long, contented sigh. "You have no idea how much I missed this."

"I might have some inkling of what that's like," Aeric said with a light chuckle. He yawned. "Better now, though."

"Yes, much," Dorian agreed, catching the yawn.

Languid as he was, happy and satisfied as he was, Dorian felt himself begin to drift in Aeric's warm embrace. His beloved's heartbeat steady beneath his ear, he fell into a blissful sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

_I've had this dream before…_ A cool breeze flitted about the room from open balcony doors, smelling more like early spring than late summer, so unlike the heat of Minrathous. Dorian lay in the bed in their quarters, warm and comfortable and safe, held gently in Aeric's arms. Dorian curled around him more tightly. _I don't want it to end._

"Awake now?" Aeric whispered.

Dorian tilted his head to look up at him, frowning in his confusion. Yet as he stared up at Aeric's smiling face, the grogginess began to clear from his mind, and he realized. "What a miraculous thing," he said, relishing the feel of his lover's skin against his. "I'm really here. I thought at first that I was still dreaming."

"So did I." Aeric pressed a kiss onto Dorian's forehead. "I don't think it's sunk in yet."

"For me neither." Dorian noticed the midday sunlight pouring through the stained glass windows, then glanced down at the blanket that covered them now. That hadn't been there before. "How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours, I think. I fell asleep as well." Aeric gave a crooked smile. "I gather you hadn't slept last night?"

Dorian chuckled. "Not a wink. Relyne will tell you that I was going mad with anticipation. You?"

"Me?" Aeric said with a smile. "I slept like a rock. But then, I didn't know you were coming." He smirked and gave one end of Dorian's mustache a little tug. "'A bit of traveling', you said. I wondered what you were up to."

"Suspicious, were you?" Dorian asked with a smile.

"Not really. But you were rather vague about everything. I should have known."

"You're too trusting, _amatus_." Dorian stretched his neck to kiss him.

"Only with you, Dorian," Aeric said, leaning in to kiss Dorian back. "_Ma'nehn._"

Dorian closed his eyes and breathed in. Aeric smelled of the outside, of mountain breezes and evergreen. "Say my name again," he murmured.

"Dorian," Aeric said gently.

"No," Dorian said, shaking his head. "The other one."

"_Ma'nehn_."

Dorian smiled, his eyes still closed. "Mm, yes. Missed that one."

Aeric bent to kiss him again, and it wasn't long before it deepened and grew more heated. _No, wait, he has to know first…_ Dorian pulled back. "Wait, _amatus_," he said, steadying himself with a deep breath. "I have something I'd like to say first."

Aeric raised an eyebrow. "Well, now that you mention it, I needed to talk to you about something as well."

"Oh?" Dorian swallowed, his heart suddenly pounding. With Aeric's interruption, his courage had abandoned him. "I… You first, then."

"Are you sure? Yours sounded important."

"No, it can wait," Dorian said, cursing himself inwardly_. Bloody coward. _"What did you have to say?"

Shifting on the bed, Aeric sat up and tugged at Dorian to sit up with him. "Listen, I've given this a lot of thought, and…" He sighed. "This past year - fine, ten and a half months - they were hard on me. Frankly, I was miserable without you. And I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad. I don't want that. But…" Aeric shook his head. "People say I've done impossible things, and I suppose that's true. Yet of all the things I have done, this has been the hardest. And I don't think I can do it anymore."

Dorian stared at him for a moment then turned away, his chest twisting. Perhaps it was a good thing Aeric went first.

But a gentle hand on his face pulled him back. "_Ma'nehn_. I'm not breaking up with you."

"You aren't?" Normally, Dorian would have tried to think of something witty or flippant or dismissive to say, but he was so relieved, his mind was completely blank. "But you said…"

Aeric gave a sad smile and kissed him, meant to reassure him, Dorian knew. "Don't be ridiculous," the elf said. "I only just got you back. I'm not about to let you go now." As if to illustrate his point, Aeric wrapped his arms around Dorian once more. "I meant I can't do the long distance anymore. The letters, and the days in between them. If I want to see you, I don't want to have to travel two weeks to do that. If we keep this up, I would only get to see you perhaps one month out of the whole year. And to do that every year? It's too hard."

Dorian nodded, having expected this outcome. "I know. It's been difficult for me as well. That's fine, then. I was going to move back to Skyhold anyway."

"What?" the elf said. "No, absolutely not."

"It's fine, Aeric. It can all be arranged."

"No, you're being foolish." Aeric's face was hard, determined. That face used to mean that Dorian was about to be on the losing end of an argument. He hoped that had changed after ten and a half months. "I will not let you throw away almost a year's worth of work and sacrifice. If you don't go back to Tevinter, our separation has been for nothing. Everything you fought for will have been for nothing." Aeric held out his bound wrist. "_This_ will have been for nothing."

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at the wrist, pangs of guilt nipping at his back. "Oh, playing dirty, I see."

"You have to go back, Dorian," Aeric went on. "And I am _begging_ you to take me with you."

"No, _amatus,_" Dorian said, shaking his head. Fear bit at his insides. "You're needed here."

"I'm not, though. There are only a few rifts left across all of Southern Thedas. It will be done in a matter of weeks."

"It doesn't matter," Dorian said stubbornly. "I'm not taking you with me."

Truthfully, however, he didn't know why he felt so strongly about it. He didn't want to be apart from Aeric anymore either, but he also did not want to abandon his homeland if at all possible. Why did the thought of bringing Aeric to Tevinter turn his stomach so?

Aeric appeared incredulous; for a moment, he could not speak. "Why not? Are you afraid I'll take control of your revolution? I know nothing of Tevinter politics, nor do I want to be directly involved in them. I've had my fill of politics for a lifetime. I don't care whether I lead or not. But I do care that you succeed and that I can help. You don't want me to take everything on myself? Wonderful. I will only do whatever you want me to do."

"What I want you to do is to stay at Skyhold."

"Why?" Aeric studied Dorian's face, hands upturned in a gesture of questioning frustration. "There is not a single thing that I would want to stay for. Regardless of what you decide, I am done with the Inquisition. As soon as the last rift is closed, I am handing the leadership over to Cassandra. It's already been arranged." His eyes turned steely once more. "I have nowhere else to go. I could return to my clan, I suppose, but you and I both know that I don't belong there anymore. Please, let me help you."

Dorian shook his head again. Part of him knew he was taking this too far, arguing too hard, but he could not put his finger on why. "I'll do it myself, without your help."

"You're going to reform an entire nation all by yourself, are you?" Aeric shook his head in an expression of disbelief. "And what of Relyne? You have no problem with allowing her to help. Why will you not allow the same from me? I will be there in any capacity in which you'd have me. I could act as a bodyguard, like Relyne. If you want advice, I can provide whatever little I can offer. I would go with you even if all you wanted me to do was stay at home and bake cookies."

A chuckle rippled out of Dorian. "You're not supposed to make me laugh when we're fighting," he scolded.

Aeric smirked. "It's true, though. I will bake you cookies. I've been practicing with Sera." His expression turned serious again. "Please, let me come to Tevinter."

The smile faded from Dorian's face. "My answer is still no," he said, his stomach churning.

Aeric's face fell into an expression of immeasurable sadness, and it took all of Dorian's will not to turn away, he hated to see it so. "I don't understand," the elf muttered. "If that's what you want, fine. But just… tell me why." He paused, the question hanging in the air. "Are you… ashamed of me?"

"What? No, of course not!"

Aeric shrugged. "Is it because I'm an elf? Because I'm open about the fact that I like men? Are you ashamed of that? Because I cannot think of a single other reason why you wouldn't take me with you. You say you want to be with me, but then…" He sighed and rose to his feet. "I need some air." He began to gather his clothing, pulling on his trousers and smallclothes.

While Aeric spoke, Dorian realized. It _was_ because he was an elf. It _was _because he was so open about who he was. And the fear he felt in watching Aeric get dressed spurred him to speak_. Don't go, please don't go. _"They'll hate you," he murmured at last.

Aeric froze then turned to look at Dorian wordlessly.

"If you go to Tevinter, they will all hate you," Dorian said, looking down at his hands in his lap. "A free elf, Dalish and proud? Who held the most powerful position in all of Southern Thedas? Who defeated an ancient magister and killed hundreds of Venatori? Who is in a relationship with a high-born mage? Who refuses to hide the fact that he's a man who likes men? Who is, in fact, even glad of such an aberration?"

"It is not an aberration," Aeric grunted.

"You see?" Dorian looked up at Aeric, proud of him even as his heart twisted itself into knots, imagining him saying such a thing in Tevinter. "Saying things like that will make people hate you. If it were me, so long as I wear my birthright, I'm somewhat protected. But you? An elf with no title? Not even a mage? They'll call you names and spit on you, saying such things. We should be so lucky if that is all they do." He took a shuddering breath, his hands clenching. "They will try to bring you down. They will try to kill you, so you cannot give any of the slaves hope for freedom or rebellion. Or worse - they'll attempt to enslave you, to prove you can be cowed by their perceived superiority."

Aeric stepped around the bed to sit back down beside him. "_Ma'nehn_…"

"I won't always be there to protect you, _amatus_," Dorian said, reaching out and touching Aeric's braced wrist. "If something were to happen to you..." He shook his head. "I've seen only a fraction of what my people do to yours in Tevinter. And it made me want to vomit. I cannot let that happen to you. I will not."

Aeric shifted closer and embraced him. He held Dorian in silence for a time, and when he finally spoke, it was with the same fierce determination he put into every challenge he had ever faced. "That is exactly why we have to go, _ma'nehn_. Together. How better to influence change than by example?"

"You damned fool," Dorian muttered, still held in Aeric's embrace. "You know that it won't be like it is here, yes? You hold my hand in Minrathous, we might get stoned. When I was there, I couldn't even hear someone call you by those slurs they use without being overcome with rage." His arms tightened around his beloved. "How much more if you're actually there? And it's every day?"

"Things will change." Dorian felt Aeric stroking his back slowly, reassuring and gentle. "Maybe not at first, but they will. I believe you and I can make things better."

Dorian gritted his teeth. "You are a damned fool," he said again, emphasizing each word. "You can't just declare a thing and make it so. You cannot change a nation with ideals and optimism alone."

Aeric pulled back from their embrace and smiled at him. "It's never stopped me before."

If it were anyone else, Dorian would have scoffed at them. He would have laughed in their faces at their naiveté. But he had been at Aeric's side for nearly a year and a half, watching him stumble into impossible situations and make it through, marked but alive. As much as he hated it, Aeric navigated the Orlesian courts with ease and grace, outwitting men and women who had played the Game all their lives. A Dalish elf who had seen little beyond the wilderness before coming to the Conclave, outplaying them all. Dorian had listened to nobles and templars and power-mad magisters, all of whom underestimated Aeric and paid the price for it.

Aeric took hold of Dorian's hands. "I'm not saying it won't be difficult. Or that either of us will be immune to the hatred we might face. I believe you when you say it will be awful." Aeric's eyes found Dorian's, and he smiled widely, his face alight with hope. "But I am willing to weather it all. To be with you? To help you fix your homeland? Of course I'm willing. A better Tevinter is your dream, and my dream is to see it with you." His hands tightened around Dorian's. "You and I can do it, together. I know we can."

If it were anyone else… But this was Aeric. And Dorian believed him.

"_Vishante kaffas_, yes," Dorian grumbled, though a smile curled at the edges of his mouth. "If you insist on making puppy eyes at me and saying those damned magnificent things, then yes. Come with me, you bloody idiot."

Aeric beamed at him before kissing him fiercely. Though the elf said nothing, Dorian could feel the joy radiating off of him as they kissed, doing much to ease the fear and dread that had taken residence in the pit of his stomach. It would all work out for the best. They would _make_ it work. They had to.

As their lips parted, Dorian's heart swelled with emotion, knowing perhaps more than Aeric did himself what he was sacrificing to be with Dorian. He reached out to touch Aeric's face, running his thumb over the_ vallaslin _and scar on the right side. Dorian took a deep breath to calm the nerves that had replaced the fear. The words were already at the tip of his tongue. It was long past time to say them. "_Amatus_?"

"Yes, _ma'nehn_?"

"Aeric, I… I love you."

The smile on Aeric's face froze for a second before melting into an expression of utter astonishment, his mouth open and his eyes wide. He gave a soft, shuddering gasp, the breath lingering in his lungs. He said nothing - rendered speechless, it appeared.

Dorian pressed onward, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. "I'm _in_ love with you, as a matter of fact, and I have been for a very long time now. Since… since before our first night together, I think." He looked up and away for a moment, letting out a sharp breath to gather himself. "The truth is, I knew nothing of love before I met you. I wasn't sure I was capable of it, or that others were capable of… of loving me. By the time we met, I had all but given up on it. And then, there you were, sweeping into my life with your damned marvelousness, loving me in a way I thought impossible. I had all these plans to be alone for the rest of my life, you see, and you've ruined them entirely." He gave a shaky smile and swallowed hard around a lump in his throat. "And it isn't fair to you, it isn't right that it took me so long to understand what this was. It took me far too long to realize how deeply I love you, and I am so terribly sorry for it. I will do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes to make it…" He trailed off, noticing the brightness in the corners of Aeric's eyes. "_Fasta vass_, are you _crying_?"

Aeric laughed, deep and trembling, a few tears spilling down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away. "I've just really missed you," he said in a hoarse voice.

Dorian felt his own eyes warm, and cursed. "_Kaffas_! I hate you so much, Aeric! Do you know how much I detest crying?"

Laughing again, Aeric drew closer. "You detest it quite a lot, I believe," he said, giving Dorian a short kiss on the lips.

"You're an awful person," Dorian accused, smiling despite himself. He wiped at his eyes hastily.

Aeric kissed him again, longer this time, pushing Dorian down onto the bed as he did so. "Say it again."

"You're an awful person."

"No," Aeric said, shaking his head, mimicking their earlier exchange. He beamed again with visible joy. "The other thing."

Dorian looked up at Aeric, his heart pounding. "I love you."

Another kiss, longer still.

"Say it again."

"I love you, _amatus_."

Still another kiss, longer than the last.

"I love you too, _ma'nehn_."


	17. Chapter 17

_Dear Ma and Da,_

_How are you? I know it has been a long time since I've written, and I'm sorry. Please know that I am fine. Better than fine, actually. Dorian is back with me._

_I have some news. I think you will consider one good and the other bad, though I think they are both good decisions for me. The first, the "good" news, is that I have decided to leave the Inquisition. Soon, they will no longer need me to close the rifts around Ferelden and Orlais, and I have no desire to remain in the position of Inquisitor. I know my leading the Inquisition made you nervous, so there will soon be no reason to worry, at least about this._

_The second, the "bad" news, is that I am headed north, to Tevinter. I know it seems that I am trading a den of wolves for one of lions, but please know that I have thought this through, and this is what I truly want to be doing with my life. I know what you think of Dorian, and actually, he was originally opposed to my joining him there. I was the one who had to convince him. Anyway, I think I can do much to help our people there. I can free slaves and be an example of what elves are capable of accomplishing. Who better than I?_

_This isn't what you wanted for me, I know. You were hoping I'd return to our clan after I was done with the Inquisition. But I think we all know that I never quite fit in with our clan, and I want to do more for the world beyond the boundaries of our clan and Wycome. However, we will be visiting on our way north. You can finally meet Dorian. He has been eager to meet both of you, and to learn more about our clan. I know you don't like the idea of him - Tevinter human that he is - but perhaps when you meet him in person, you will see how absolutely wonderful he is. I love him dearly, so please at least be nice._

_Dorian and I should be arriving in about a month. I will send word again once we have reached the Free Marches._

_- Aeric_

ooo

When Aeric exited the infirmary at the Circle Tower in Val Royeaux, he found Dorian in the hall outside the door, pacing with a scowl on his face. Smiling, Aeric approached him. "_Ma'nehn._"

Dorian looked up. "You're done now, _amatus_? What did that sorry excuse for a healer say?"

"She said the infection caused some damage, but nothing too severe," Aeric said, frowning down at his wrist. "It will likely bother me off and on for the rest of my life."

"The rest of your life!" Dorian exclaimed incredulously. "For a simple break and infection? Did she do nothing but stare at your wrist, or did she do any actual healing?"

"She did." Aeric shrugged. "It feels better to me, at least for now. She said she could do no more."

"Of all the hackneyed charlatans passing for spirit healers nowadays…" Dorian muttered through his teeth. "I have a mind to march right in there and demand she look again."

Aeric smirked. "It's that kind of attitude that got you kicked out of the infirmary in the first place."

"Hmph," Dorian grunted. "I only questioned her education. It seemed lacking."

"You said you'd seen trained cats perform better magic than she did."

Dorian's scowl brightened to a slow grin. "Well, I have! Extraordinary thing. With enough tuna and enchanted catnip, bored magisters can accomplish anything."

Aeric laughed. "I don't doubt it," he said, pulling Dorian towards the exit.

Val Royeaux bustled outside the Circle, a low hum of activity throughout the glittering city. The day was gorgeous: bright, warm, and sunny, with a cool ocean breeze making the blue swaths of cloth above flap and flutter. Even Dorian found nothing to complain about the weather. As they strolled, Aeric held his hand, an act made better by the fact that Dorian had not tried to hide their linked hands. Aeric smiled, feeling a sense of pride. Dorian had come such a long way.

"When we reach Tevinter, we should stop in Qarinus," Dorian was saying. "My mother is a talented spirit healer. She will likely be able to do something for your wrist. More than the amateurs that evidently pass for healers in Orlais, surely."

"I'd like to meet your mother," Aeric said as they walked towards the square. "Perhaps thank her for convincing you to come back early."

"Still going on about that, are you?" Dorian said with a fond little smile. "The way you talk about it, one would think you were a child opening presents on Satinalia."

"I got six more weeks with you than I thought I would," Aeric laughed. "That's better than Satinalia."

"Listen to you," Dorian said, his smile widening. "I fell in love with the sappiest demon killer in all of Thedas."

Aeric grinned, his cheeks warm. Since Dorian had first said he loved Aeric weeks ago, he was still hesitant and sparing of the word. Yet every now and then, he would say it casually, as if it were nothing, as if it were not a word he had avoided for two years. Aeric thought perhaps Dorian said it to make him smile.

They were supposed to be heading back to the city gates to meet up with Iron Bull and Cole, to move onward towards the Hissing Wastes to close the final rifts. Instead, however, Dorian and Aeric looped back around the square, strolling without a destination in mind.

"This might be one of the last times we will be able to walk through a city like this," Dorian said in a low voice, staring out at the street ahead. His hand tightened around Aeric's. "Without staring or ridicule."

"Perhaps," Aeric said. "We can always come back to visit, whenever we need a safe space. To be ourselves, without worrying."

Dorian looked over at him and gave a sad smile. "I'd like that."

They were silent again for a while, nearing the docks. The emerald waters, shining in the summer sun, splashed against the docks with a calming rhythm.

"_Ma'nehn_?"

"Hm?"

Aeric turned Dorian around to face him. "I want you to know, no matter where we are, no matter what others think or say or do, I will always hold your hand or kiss you, when you want it. When you're comfortable."

Dorian's shoulders slumped as he hung his head, letting his breath out in a huff. "You say that now…"

"I mean it." Aeric reached out to lift Dorian's chin. "But if holding my hand or kissing you in public will make you uncomfortable, will make you worry? I want you to know that's all right with me too."

A slow smile crept across Dorian's lips. "I love you," he whispered.

Aeric smiled. "I know," he answered with a wink. Dorian chuckled. "Now, we should head back. The others are waiting."

They walked back to the gates, their hands still linked. "Ah, off to kill demons again," Dorian said, back to his usual jaunty tone. "How nostalgic! I'm actually looking forward to it." He looked at Aeric and raised a questioning eyebrow. "What about you? Ready for your last official act as Inquisitor?"

"I am," Aeric said. He felt ready for it. It was time to move on. "Everything is changing, _ma'nehn_. I'm eager to see what's next."

ooo

Just over a week before Dorian and Aeric were scheduled to leave Skyhold, Aeric relinquished his title, passing it on to Cassandra. The ceremony to pass the torch, so to speak, was shorter than Dorian expected, but still padded with speeches. The whole thing reminded Dorian of the courtyard ceremony when they first arrived at Skyhold, Aeric holding a gigantic sword high above the gathered crowd. Now, the positions were changed. Aeric presented the sword to Cassandra, who took it with pride in her eyes and her perpetual frown on her lips. When she thrust the sword into the sky, it looked more natural for her, warrior that she was, than it ever did for Aeric.

When the ceremony ended, Dorian went searching for Aeric. There was to be a reception in the Great Hall, one that Josephine had made nearly as extravagant as the one held for Corypheus' defeat. Dorian weaved through the little groups of soldiers and scouts and foreign allies on his way up to the Great Hall.

He had just reached the Hall when a familiar voice called out to him. "It seems you are always smiling these days, Monsieur."

Dorian turned, finding Relyne by the fireplace. She grinned at him over the glass of wine in her hand. "Am I?" Dorian said with a smile he didn't know was already there. "It does seem that way, yes."

"I am glad to find you so happy with your paramour," she said after taking a sip of her wine. "Though I admit it has been strange not hearing you complain at me."

"I've missed you too, my friend," he replied, chuckling. Dorian had rarely seen Relyne since arriving at Skyhold, spending most of his time reacquainting himself with Aeric. "I apologize that I have been so… occupied of late."

Relyne laughed softly. "You deserve your occupation, Monsieur. You certainly fought hard enough for it. There is no need to apologize."

Dorian drew closer to the fireplace, snatching a glass of wine for himself from the tray of a passing serving girl. "Have you decided what you will do next? We will be journeying to Tevinter soon. We would be happy to have you in our employ once again."

"Would you?" Relyne cocked her head to one side as she looked at him curiously. "I had wondered. Monsieur Lavellan is a rogue as well, is he not? He could take over my network if you did not have need of me."

Dorian tried to think of Aeric running a spy network and laughed out loud. Aeric's idea of subtlety was kicking down a door and growling at people until they told him what he wanted. Which had its uses, but would likely get him and any of their spies killed. "I'm afraid all rogues are not made equal, my dear. Don't get me wrong, Aeric is excellent at what he does, but he has no gift for secrecy." He looked her in the eye, his face falling into a serious expression. "And you should know, Relyne, none of what I accomplished in Tevinter thus far would have been possible without you. You were pivotal. And you have been a good friend." Clearing his throat, he took a long draw from his wine glass. "Besides," he said, adopting a smirk on his face, "you already know how I like my tea."

Relyne smiled. "Then of course I will join you, Monsieur." She paused, looking thoughtfully into her wine glass. "Though, perhaps I will meet the two of you in Minrathous. You are going by way of the Free Marches, yes?"

"Indeed," Dorian said with a nod. "Is that a problem?"

"Perhaps," she said. She swished the remaining wine in her glass. "Two weeks on a ship with walls and waves to drown out the sounds of you two might be tolerable. However, weeks sharing a camp with you two, rutting like bunnies like you do? I would go mad."

Dorian chuckled. "How would you know how we 'rut'?"

Relyne rolled her eyes. "Tell your paramour to close his balcony doors sometime."

"I shall have a word with him," Dorian said, grinning and hiding his blush behind his wine glass.

"At any rate," she said, gazing down the Hall, gesturing with nod of her head. Squeezing past a group of dignitaries was Aeric, beaming as his eyes found Dorian. "I think the two of you deserve some time to yourselves. Maker knows you have been separated long enough."

"That we have," Dorian agreed, as his_ amatus _joined them at last.

Aeric. Just Aeric, now. No longer Inquisitor.

ooo

"Of all the people I have to say goodbye to, I think I was dreading saying it to you the most."

Aeric reached out and touched the leaves of his sister's tree, not quite a sapling anymore. The maple would look gorgeous in the autumn, when it was fully grown. He wondered if he could convince Dorian to make their visits to Skyhold during the autumn months, so he could see the golden leaves.

There was little left for Aeric to do now. Almost all of his packing was done for their ride to Val Royeaux in the morning. He had sat in the garden with the intention of reading, but his book sat in his lap, almost forgotten. He knew he had been avoiding this conversation for a while now.

"I don't like the idea that I'm leaving you behind," Aeric went on. "But you're not really here, are you? You're still in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where I left you." He sighed, shaking his head. He always turned melancholy when he thought about that day the Conclave exploded. "I'm headed to Tevinter, with Dorian. I think you would be happy for me. When I visit, I'll tell you all about it. I promise, all right?"

He looked up at the bright blue sky overhead, at the wavering beams of light that marked the Breach's scar, still visible in the sunlight. "It has been… a mad few years since you died, Pai. I think one of the things that best kept me going was how proud I knew you would be of me. Finally came out of my shell, didn't I? If either of us knew before we left our clan what I would be doing in a few months' time, we wouldn't have believed me capable of it." Aeric smiled sadly, looking up at the tree. "Well, I wouldn't have. You however… you were always my biggest supporter."

Plucking at the grass around him, he took a steadying breath. "I've been meaning to thank you. All of this started when you died. Not the cause of it, of course, but that was the start of it for me. And since then, I've done things I'm proud of, and made some fine friends. Most of all, I met Dorian." He twisted the blades of grass in his fingertips, his heart swelling with the thought of his love. "And… I know it wasn't your intention, but I'm thankful for your sacrifice. Because if I had to lose you, I'm so grateful that I gained so much from it. I'll be leaving here tomorrow with this amazing man, whom I love more than anything. And I can't help but think that he was a gift from you. Because if you hadn't brought me to the Conclave, if you hadn't died… I might never have met him." Aeric took another breath and smiled up at the tree. He had to clear his throat before speaking again. "So, thank you for him, Pai."

After getting to his feet, he took a leaf from the tree. He opened the book to a page in the middle and slipped the leaf between the pages, shutting the book to press it. It eased his mind knowing he could at least take a part of her with him. "Goodbye, little sister. Miss you."

He stepped back from the tree. When he turned around, he found himself face to face with Cole. Aeric blinked in surprise.

"The tree can't answer, Aeric," Cole said.

Aeric glanced over his shoulder at the little maple tree then turned back to the spirit. "It says more than you would think, Cole."

Cole nodded solemnly, apparently satisfied with Aeric's reply.

"Is something the matter?" Aeric asked, frowning.

"You're leaving tomorrow. Dorian too." It almost sounded like an accusation.

"Yes," Aeric said. "You knew we were going to. I'm sorry."

Cole shook his head. "It seemed far away and then it wasn't. Now it's tomorrow. And, tomorrow, it will be today. And then both of you won't be here anymore."

Aeric watched him for a moment, the stiffness in his limbs, his head bowed under his wide-brimmed hat. "And that makes you sad?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," Aeric said, lifting the brim of Cole's hat so he could see the young man's face.

"I don't like it, Aeric," Cole muttered. "It pulls at me, but there's nowhere for it to go."

"It's like that sometimes, yes."

"But…" Cole hesitated, biting his lip, thinking. "But if you stayed, you wouldn't be happy. You're happier, leaving. Both of you."

Aeric nodded. "Yes, we are."

A slow smile crept across Cole's face. "Then that makes the sadness worth it, doesn't it? I'm glad for you."

Taking off Cole's hat for a moment, Aeric gave him a short embrace. Cole's smile widened as Aeric returned the hat to his head. "Thank you," Aeric said, answering Cole's smile with one of his own. Aeric would miss the curious spirit. "Cole, are you staying with the Inquisition? I asked Cassandra to make sure you were always welcome here."

"Yes, I think so," Cole answered with a nod. "For a time. There are still people who need me here."

"Could you do me a favor then?" Aeric glanced back at the tree again, and the bed of flowers beside it. "Could you care for my sister's tree, and the embrium next to it? All it needs is water."

"A tree that is both sister and friend," Cole intoned. He blinked. "Yes, I will care for her for you, if that will help."

A bit of the guilt at leaving lifted from Aeric. He smiled. "It will. Thank you."

ooo

"So, Kirkwall first, is it?"

"That's right. To visit Varric and close a rift."

"I have mentioned what a shithole it is, yes?"

"Several times, _ma'nehn_."

Dorian and Aeric sat upon their mounts just inside the archway, their horses laden with their bags and enough provisions for the ride to Val Royeaux. All of their goodbyes had been said the night before, so the others would not have to wake early to see them off. There had been an intimate gathering in the tavern, Iron Bull challenging Dorian and Relyne to a drinking contest, and Josephine tearfully winning every hand of Wicked Grace. Blackwall blushing behind his beard as he relinquished another piece of clothing in the card game, while Cole and Krem watched nearby, laughing. Cullen telling stories about his days as a templar recruit, his red-headed girlfriend Megra teasing him and mussing his hair. Cassandra looking on at the festivities, a part of it all despite her silence. Aeric, trying to coax Sera out of her room, before giving up and coming downstairs to cheer Dorian on in the contest.

They were just about to depart when something hard hit Dorian on the shoulder. It didn't hurt, crumbling on impact. Another hit Aeric on the knee. Dorian looked down at the crumbs on his robes. "Cookies?" They both looked up.

Sera sat atop the railing of one of the archway's balconies, grabbing cookies from a large bag at her side and chucking them at the two of them. "Stupid viney elf!" she shouted, throwing another cookie, and another. "Stupid mustache! You were shite friends anyway! Who needs you? I hope you both turn into demons in your shite land of stupid evil magisters!"

Aeric caught one of the cookies in midair and offered it to Dorian. "We'll miss you too, Sera," Aeric called up at her with a smile.

Her face scrunched up and she wiped at her eyes hastily. "You two had better be friggin' happy together, yeah? Or I'll shoot you both full of arrows!" Grabbing two handfuls of cookies, she threw them at Dorian and Aeric before turning around and disappearing into the castle.

"Strange girl," Dorian said, taking a bite of the cookie. "Mm, this isn't bad."

Aeric chuckled. "I had hoped she would say goodbye," he said, still staring up at the balcony and the bag of cookies she had abandoned there.

Dorian touched his arm, giving it a light squeeze. "Ready to go_, amatus_?"

After a moment, Aeric turned to Dorian and nodded. "Let's go."

They rode out across the bridge and off to the west, deeper into Orlais. The morning sun peeked out over the mountains, casting long beams of yellow sunlight over the cliffs and valleys. Dew-covered flowers gave off a heady perfume that followed them all along the mountain path.

At the crest of a hill, Aeric pulled his horse to a stop. Dorian reined in his horse alongside him. "Something the matter?" the mage asked.

Aeric nodded back in the direction they came. Skyhold appeared small now, though no less majestic under the soft sunlight. "Just wanted a final look. Strange that this place sometimes felt more like home than my clan ever did. Skyhold has been good to us."

"It has," Dorian agreed. "But I expect better things to come, don't you?

Aeric smiled. "Optimism? From you, _ma'nehn_?"

"What can I say?" Dorian said, reaching a hand out to hold his. "You're rubbing off on me. Besides, with you by my side? How can things not be better?"

"I love you," Aeric said. From him, the words were effortless and free-flowing, but no less meaningful in their frequency.

"I…" For Dorian, the words were stilted and thick. Maker, why was this always so hard?

Aeric shook his head, still smiling. "You don't have to say it every time. I know." He leaned in for a kiss, and Dorian happily met him halfway.

As they kicked their horses into an easy canter once more, Dorian swore he would get better at saying the words. For Aeric, for himself. One day, the walls and barriers he had built around the words would fall away, and he would be able to express his love fully. No matter how long it took, he would learn to give of himself as freely as Aeric gave. It was a challenge he would relish overcoming.

* * *

><p><em>This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization<em>

_It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away_

_Your love will be safe with me…_

~ Bon Iver, "Re: Stacks"


End file.
